


The New Normal

by midnightcas



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alpha Mate Stiles Stilinski, Angst with a Happy Ending, Asshole Jackson, BAMF Sheriff Stilinski, Because you've all convinced me, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Communication Failure, Cuddling & Snuggling, Derek Hale & Sheriff Stilinski Bonding, Derek Uses His Words, Derek and Stiles Cuddle, Derek is a Good Alpha, Derek is a Softie, Derek is precious and should be protected at all costs, Emissaries, Emotionally Hurt Stiles Stilinski, Emotions, Endgame Sterek, Eventual Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Everyone Is Alive, F/M, Failwolf Friday, Feels, Fluff and Angst, Full Shift Werewolves, High School, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, I Don't Even Know, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Illusions, Jealous Derek, Kissing, M/M, Magic-Users, Mates Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Mild Gore, Minor Character Death, Mutual Pining, Nice Jackson, Oblivious Stiles, Original Character(s), Other Pack(s), Out of Character, Pack Dynamics, Pining Derek, Pining Stiles Stilinski, Possessive Derek, Post Season 5, Protective Derek, Protective Jackson, Protective Pack, Protective Scott, Scent Marking, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Scott is a Bad Friend, Sharing Clothes, Sheriff Stilinski Knows, Sheriff Stilinski Ships It, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Stackson Brotp, Stiles Feels, Stiles Stilinski & Jackson Whittemore Friendship, Stiles is Pushed Out of the Pack, Stiles-centric, Stilinski Family Feels, Symbols, Tags Contain Spoilers, Temporary Character Death, Torture, Underage Drinking, are these tags getting out of hand, because i think so, i guess??, multiple story archs, procrastination piece, theres a plot somewhere in here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-08-13 20:18:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 63,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7984831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightcas/pseuds/midnightcas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Stiles gets hurt...again, Derek puts him on the metaphorical supernatural bench. Meanwhile, Stiles tries to have a normal life and make normal friends. But when a new pack comes to town and the Hales start getting threats, things start to get a little....not normal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Yankees vs Dodgers

**Author's Note:**

> Oh wow.  
> So, fair warning. The plot? Kind of sucks. The writing? Kind of sucks.  
> I just needed to get myself up and writing again, so here this is. This is, by far, not my best fanfic, but I decided to put it out here anyways. Everyone needs some hurt Stiles in their lives, even if it is cliche and corny and horribly written.  
> The idea came to me at 6am on my commute to school and in desperation to revive my a03 career, I spit this out. I usually hate works with original characters but...here this is. I hope it doesn't keep you too far away from my previous works.  
> Lots of Love & Lots of Sterek  
> xoxo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a small background to get everything rolling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to this mess.

Stiles sighed as he glanced down at the black monstrosity clamped around his leg.

 

The pain was minimal, thanks to Scott and his werewolf pain sucking, but the agitation was still there. He had tried to peel the boot off just to itch at the goddamned thing, but each and every time, his father would poke his head in and refuse him the one small luxury. It was like he had some kind of Dad-Radar that pinged every time Stiles even entertained the notion. Or maybe Derek had turned him without Stiles even knowing and he’d, like, _smell_ the desperation wafting off of him. Honestly, it was more likely than the Dad-Radar thing or half of the other things he’d come up with over the past week. Eh, maybe it was just a Sheriff thing. The man had also taken the liberty to hide all of the thin long objects he could have possibly shoved down there for momentary relief. EVEN THOUGH, Melissa and the Doctor had said it was perfectly acceptable for him to remove the damn boot periodically--”Every twenty minutes is _not_ periodical, Stiles”--he was being denied. As much as he loved his father and loved the fact that he was able to spend so much time with him, it was getting overwhelming. At least when Derek was there, he let Stiles undo the boot to scratch at it. He also let him go to the bathroom by himself, which was nice. So yeah, he couldn’t wait for his Dad to get back to work and for Derek to be the one to fuss over him, bringing him food and getting his laptop set up for him, even though his _hands_ worked just fine.

Luckily for him, he only had two more days until his Dad had to get back to the station and only three more days after that until he was allowed to put pressure on it. Thank God. Stiles was, by nature, fidgety. But add two entire weeks of immobility and you get...well something nobody asked for.

  
It was all that damn nymph’s fault. A hamadryad. She had attached part of herself to the Nemeton, which was just stupid of her to be completely honest. It, of course, had made her evil and territorial and she lashed out at anything or anyone that came close to her home tree. And that included two ignorant and innocent werewolves (Scott and Liam). Derek had sent them out to investigate the strange spike in animal deaths around the forest. They hadn’t yet linked it to the nymph’s sudden psycho meltdown because the animals had been scattered. And so the idiots had apparently gotten distracted by video games and decided that it would be okay to go out afterwards... at three frickin am. But, in their defence, there _were_ a bajillion trees in The Preserve and it could have quite literally been any of them. No, forget that. They were being dumb. So, it was _Stiles_ that got the frantic phone call, waking him up from the most dreamless and therefore most restful sleep he’d had in a long time. He grumbled his way through sliding his jeans, tshirt and hoodie on and running to start his jeep. He had the supplies: mystical tree killer. Or rather, just a _lot_ of chemicals with some sort of mystical thing mixed into it to kill the thing on site. Basically it was a kill the tree, kill the nymph. Easy enough...so of course it wasn’t. Stiles had made it to the spot to find Scott and Liam battling rocks and branches being hurled at them through every direction. And apparently this was pretty mild because as soon as Stiles and his all-mighty spark stepped into the place, she got all out _aggressive_ . Whole trees came slamming down and giant boulders rolled at them. He had called Derek repeatedly until the he’d picked up--he’d been sleeping, who would have guessed--Stiles only screaming their location and that it was urgent. Ten minutes later he’d been knocked to the ground by something and watched as the tree come toppling down on top of him. He barely registered the arms tucking under his armpits, dragging him away. The tree landed hard on his foot, wrenching a pathetic scream from his throat. Nothing like your entire foot shattering, am I right? After a moment the trunk was lifted off of him and the arms dragged him the rest of the way. It would have been prefered if this had happened _before_ the tree had fallen on him, but he was thankful it wasn’t his entire body being crushed, which was where it had been heading beforehand. He chanced a look down at himself to be met with protruding bone and dark blood soaking his jeans. He felt himself pale and focused on looking up at his savior. Isaac still hadn’t let go of him and was looking down at him in shock and relief. The realization of death suddenly struck him. What if Derek had answered on the fourth call and not the third? What if Isaac hadn’t woken up with him? What if Derek had caught the light at Johnson road? What if he had tried to find his jacket before heading out. What if, what if, what if.

“Thanks,” Stiles managed to breathe out, only to be answered with a squeeze from Isaac and a stiff nod.  
“The stuff...it’s over by...”  
“We know, Stiles. We got it,” he said in a very soft and uncharacteristic Isaac voice.

He must have been pretty bad off for Isaac to be being this nice to him. He voiced this and Isaac only huffed out a laugh, “You’re not dying Stiles, relax.”

“Okay.”

The next thing he remembers is Derek’s face over his, speaking in a low voice but still somehow sounding desperate.

“It’s okay Sourwolf, Isaac said I’m fine.”  
  
“Yes. Of course you’re fine.”  
  
After that it was the hospital and then his father. _Shit_. His father. They had given him a ridiculous amount of pain pills, sewed him back together and sent him back on his merry way again, sentencing him to these two weeks of hell.

  
And really, he was _fine_ . He was okay. In a way, it had been nice. A calm two week break from his internship at the police station, which he _did_ love, but it kind of sucked working with people who changed your diapers and therefore never took you seriously.

He had spent most of the days with Derek watching movies or playing board games. The guy was scarily good at _Sorry_ and _Monopoly_ but Stiles always won _Trivial Pursuit_ and _Scrabble_ , so they were pretty evenly matched. Scott and the others (even Jackson) would stop by after work or for their lunches just to hangout or see how he was. It was a pack thing apparently, Derek explained. The same way actual wolves would care for their injured, the pack mentality called for them to be near him and to make sure he was okay. Stiles didn’t _hate_ it. It was nice to have a busy house and his father agreed, even if he didn’t vocalize it. He would offer to order pizza or Chinese or to cook for them. And there were always snacks in the house when once upon a time, there had been none. This seemed to open a floodgate of random visitors whenever. Even after he was better.

His favorite thing to come out of this, however, were Sundays. His Dad never worked Sundays. So he, Stiles and Derek would all be in the house together (after assuring Derek repeatedly that it would be okay to stay and that he didn’t have to turn tail and run every time John came home and that yes, he was _totally over_ his arrest two years ago). They’d turn on the game, the Sheriff would offer Derek a beer and they’d order in. For a while, it was strange seeing the two men, nearly polar opposites in every aspect, together in a room. But soon, it became somewhat comforting--watching the ebb and flow of conversation between them, listening to the familiar voices that always seemed to trigger an internal state of calm in Stiles go back and forth about nothing, feeling their calm energy together. It was overwhelming, at first, to feel so...so _safe_. But he learned to relish it.

It didn’t stop after the two week hell either. John had enthusiastically invited Derek back weekly. Turns out, he enjoyed the older man’s company and prefered watching a game with someone that wasn’t seventeen or that talked through the entire fourth inning (that is, of course, if it wasn’t a Mets game).

 

So basically, what Stiles was saying, was that more good than harm came from him shattering his ankle. And yeaahhh, that statement would come right back around and bite him in the ass for sure.

 

A week before school they were ambushed during training. It was a hot day, the sun was high and there wolves were tired. So why not have an omega come barreling out of the thick woods into the clearing. And why wouldn’t it come right at Stiles, the weak link, still in his damn boot? He heard the crack of his head on the ground before he felt it. There were roars and yelling and then a sickening thud. At that, Stiles opted to slide into the darkness that had been threatening to take him for a while now. If someone was dead, he didn’t want to deal with it then. Not while he felt like this.

He woke up in the hospital a day later, his father, Derek and Scott standing over his bed.

His father eventually had to go deal with the insurance and he finally guilted Scott into getting him McDonalds when _it_ happened.

Derek sat down in the chair beside his bed and watched Stiles carefully, like he was trying to figure something out. Stiles wanted to be mad. He wanted Derek to use his wolf powers and bust him out of here. But the Doctors had wanted to keep him another day for observation and the way Derek was looking at him, all soft eyes and earnest expression, made his heart stutter. So, not angry it was. The wolf gave a small smile before speaking.

“Stiles. I think...I think you should take a step back for a while. Take a break from all of this.”  
  
“All of what?” He had asked genuinely confused.  
  
“The pack.”  
  
“You’re...you’re kicking me out.”

He couldn’t say that he hadn’t seen this coming. He was the weak link. The distraction. The useless human. The--

“No! No. Of course not, you idiot. Of course not. It’s...it’s something my Mom used to do.”

At that confession, Stiles had sitten up a bit straighter and tuned into whatever Derek was going to say. Because if he knew anything, it was that Talia Hale was a badass Alpha and leader and her methods were carefully studied and used in a large number of other packs across America and even in Europe.

“When a member of the pack got hurt more than once during a cycle--”  
  
“Cycle? You mean in between full moons.”  
  
“Yeah. We called them cycles.”  
  
“...okay.”  
  
“She would put them kind of on a... _probationary_ period.”  
  
“Oh my God.”  
  
“No, listen. It’s not...not like a lock down. Or isolation. It’s more of a distance thing. Just to keep them separated for a while.”  
  
“Separated? Wouldn’t that...wouldn’t that be like the opposite of what we’re supposed to do?”

Derek let out a sigh and Stiles animatedly zipped his lips and ‘threw away the key’.

“It gives the wolf...the _pack member_ , time to heal and it also cools down the rest of the pack. Like when you broke your ankle, they’re going to feel inclined to protect you and keep you close. And a lot of the time, wolves will get violent about it. Especially with non-pack members. And to keep the pack calm and level headed, the Alpha...my _mother_ used to practice this. It manipulates the pack bond a bit. Long absences confuse the wolf and question your part in the pack. But since we’re both, wolf and human, we consciously know that you _are_ pack. So it’s not like you won’t be as prominent in the pack as you are now. It just downplays their eventual instincts a bit.”

“So...what? I can’t talk to you guys anymore? Or like go to pack meetings?”  
  
“You can _talk to us_ , of course. Pack meetings, well, we’ll see. You won’t miss that many. I’ll leave it up to you. But I think this would be good, Stiles. Taking a breather. Making some new friends at school. Having some normalcy. Everyone needs a break sometimes.”  
  
“How...How long?”

Derek smiled, “Just a month. Then you can come back and wreak havoc on all of our pack lives.”

“I guess...I guess I could give it a try?”  
  
The only reason he was agreeing to this was because he _was_ tired. They hadn’t really had a break between now, the nymph and the Dread Doctor Debacle and...and the Nogitsune. It had been one long running, neverending gag. Also, the way Derek had been looking at him throughout the entire conversation. It had been kind of...distracting. And all Stiles had wanted to do was...well whatever the man wanted at that moment. While this would kind of give him an out with the supernatural for a while, he couldn’t help but feel like he was a burden and that the sole reason Derek was even offering this was because he didn’t want Stiles around anymore. But he guessed that Derek felt his sudden insecurity and sorrow because he quickly tacked on that if it was Scott or Jackson or Malia or Allison or anyone else, he would have done the same thing.

When he only gave a sad nod, the Alpha smiled lightly and carefully brushed a piece of hair back from Stiles’ forehead, “Okay. I’ll talk to the pack,” and then he changed the subject, “The Yankees play the Dodgers this weekend. I think I might have to fight your Dad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ch 1 el fin x
> 
> Come Visit Me On Tumblr: midnightcas


	2. Braves vs Cardinals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Pack Isolation" begins & Stiles makes a new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like you made it past the first chapter.  
> I wish there was something I could give you in consolation, but alas.
> 
> Thanks for coming back.  
> Lots of Love & Lots of Sterek  
> xoxo

Turns out pack isolation, which is what he had come to call it, despite Derek’s words, was a lot like...well normal.   
  
Derek came over on Sunday, Lydia took him school shopping, he threw the ball around with Scott, texted with Erica. It was all calm and nice until he’d found out, through Scott’s slip of the tongue, that the mate of the omega that had attacked them had come bounding into their territory the night before. He had driven over to Derek’s demanding answers. And when he did, the man had only given him a knowing look and started talking about Season Two of Suits and how much he hated Rachel. What? Eventually, after the troll incident the _very next day_ (which had Derek talking about Mike), he got it. He was exclusively being shielded by any and all of the supernatural occurrences in Beacon Hills. It sucked. He felt unvalued, unimportant, untrusted and uninformed. But, in a way, it was kind of freeing. Sorry Beacon Hills, your stupid amount of supernatural drama? Yeah, not my problem anymore. But then there was Scott and everyone else that _was_ involved. It made him nervous. What if they needed a human hand in there? Well, they did have Allison. And that thought just made him feel useless and down so he’d stop thinking about it to avoid all feelings of self pity and such. It was an endless cycle for the first few days. How was he supposed to last a month? This _was_ supposed to be a healing period, or at least that was what Derek had claimed. So he was determined to come back in October healed as all fuck and ready to take on everything that was not immediately 100% human and mundane.

 And that was when school started.

 

He had to remind himself not to pick up Isaac or Liam, meaning that he was early to school for the first time in his _life_. He even went for coffee and still was on time for first period. He sat next to Boyd, who regarded him with a small nod and Stiles was just relieved that he hadn’t savagely pushed him away like Malia had earlier today at _own_ _locker_. The day went by in similar nature. Sometimes the pack would welcome him easily, other times they would duck around the kids in the hallway like Stiles was an idiot. Or blind. At lunch though, he couldn’t find anybody. And judging by Scott’s missing bike outside, he figured they all had fled the scene. He sat alone in the corner table. The same one he and Scott had started out at Freshman year. Luckily he was seen as ‘somewhat popular’ and ‘not a total loser’ after his sudden blip on Jackson, Danny and Lydia’s radar. And as stupid as it (and high school) _was_ it was nice to know that at least he wouldn’t be targeted for it. It was about halfway through the hour that he felt a hesitant and lurking presence behind him. He turned, ready to defend himself.

“Hey, um, hi. Is anyone sitting here?”

Stiles stared at the guy in shock.

“Uh..no, nope. Go right ahead. Yeah.”

The boy gave him a strange look, one he was used to by now, before sitting down. And Stiles kind of did a mental double take. There were other empty tables and Stiles wasn’t the _most_ approachable person out there. He looked down at his outfit. He wore his usual plaid, red and brown, but instead of it being opened to reveal one of his many t shirts, he had it buttoned up and paired with jeans that were a shade or two darker than his normal style. Huh, maybe Lydia’s advice had worked.

“I’m James,” the kid smiled tentatively.  
  
“Stiles.”  
  
“...what?”

“Hmm?” And oh...yeah. Right. He hadn’t had to deal with new people in a long time. And wow, maybe Derek had been right. He needed to get out more. Branch out more. Needed some actual friends outside of pack, “My name. It’s polish and kind of a mouthful,” that’s the way his mother had described it to strangers, a mouthful, “my friends just call me Stiles.”

James nodded, “Cool. So are you new here? I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”  
  
“New? No. I, uh, well I’m always kind of in the background. In people’s shadow. You know.”

To his surprise, he laughed.

“Alright, fair enough.”  
  
“And, oh God, before you ask, I do have friends. Like, I don’t sit alone at lunch everyday. I promise.”

Oh _God_. Awkward word vomit. How he had missed thee.

James just laughed again, “Good to know. They seem lovely.”  
  
“You don’t believe me.”  
  
“No, I believe you. But what if I’m the one who sits alone at lunch everyday?”  
  
Stiles snorted, “You’re not.”  
  
“And now you don’t believe me.”

Huh. A wrap around joke. A sense of humor. Not entirely scared off by Stiles yet. _Huh_.

“So,” Stiles leans in, “Marvel or DC?”

 

He and James had three out of four afternoon classes together. Which was nice. In Calculus he got to prove to James that he _did so_ have friends when the Lydia Martin sat next to him. James looked shocked for an entire minute before he recollected himself enough to send his look of disbelief to Stiles himself. At this, he just smirked. Way prouder at this discovery than he had the right to be.

James busted him for it on their way to gym where James got to prove to Stiles that _he_ had friends. A whole friend group rather--a freshman, Laurel, two sophomores, Adam and Fen, a junior, Michael and two senior, Amanda and Tyler. Stiles had seen most of them around and, actually, they were great. Hell, did Stiles miss the days of only worrying about what your peers thought of you. It was nice only having to fear rejection of a high school clique. The only pain that could possibly come from this was rejection and maybe a bruised ego. But he still had Scott and Lydia and the rest of the pack behind him, so honestly he had nothing to lose. Which is why, he figured, that he went ahead with his usual jokes and foot in mouth ways. And they _liked_ it. They took Stiles’ awkwardness in stride, even going as far as to say it was endearing. They laughed at his jokes, they rolled with his humor, they matched his dry wit. Stiles kind of wondered what his life would have been like if he had never taken Scott into the woods that night. Wondered what his life would have been like if he didn’t know about werewolves and kanimas and onis and kitsunes. Wondered if he would still even be friends with Scott. Wondered if he would have ever met Derek. Wondered if he would have eventually met James and the others. Wondered if his depression would have been as severe. If his anxiety would have spiked like it had. Wondered if they still would have had Tara or Harris. Wondered if he even would still be alive.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when Finstock yelped, “Stilinski!”

“Yes Coach?”  
  
“Where’s McCall?”  
  
“Uh...”  
  
“What are you two princesses fighting again?”

Oh yes, _again_. For some reason, Finstock had been highly attuned to the Stiles v Scott predicament last year with Theo and the Dread Doctors. Making a point to mention their distance several times, “What’d you two break up?”, along with when they finally made up and started talking again, “I’m glad you two got back together and are talking again. But how about we keep the goo-goo eyes and conversations at a minimum during class, alright Stilinski? McCall?”. Actually...he kind of always had been attuned to his and Scott’s relationship. He always pointed out how they always partnered with each other in LAX or in school projects and especially when they didn’t. Always made sure to drop a joke or comment about homosexuality and how it had been legalized in another state or let them know he was very open to that kind of “lifestyle” when one or both of them were around. It was kind of creepy now that he thought about it. Thoughtful. But creepy.

He saw James throw him a confused glance but ignored it.

“Uh, no coach. We’re fine. He should be in any minute.”  
  
“If you’re sure...”  
  
“I am.”  
  
“Okay. Take a seat, then.”

He made his way to the back, James following. When they finally sat, he turned to him.  
  
“So...Scott’s your...”  
  
“Best friend,” Stiles corrected, already knowing where his mind was going.  
  
“Right,” he sounded unsure.  
  
“I am, though,” Stiles blurted, deciding to get it all out of the way now, “Bisexual, I mean.”  
  
James huffed, “I thought so. I’m gay.”  
  
“Nice to meet you.”

After a brief silence at the terribleness of the joke they tumbled into laughter. Laughter that stopped abruptly when Scott, Isaac and Kira entered the room.

Stiles waved them over but Scott threw him a glance and opted to sit in the front of the room. Both Kira and Isaac gave him sad eyes before they, too, found different seats.

“So,” James leaned in, “are you sure you’re not fighting?”

Stiles smiled at him, “I’m sure,” he said, holding up his phone to show James the text that read ‘ **srry promised kira we’d sit in the front. she almost failed finstock last yr. u can come up here if u want’**.

Stiles knew it was a cover text, but nonetheless, he appreciated it. James nodded hesitantly before smiling at him. After another lull, he started asking Stiles about Lacrosse and how it ‘worked’....Who knew there was life beyond Scott McCall?

 

Apparently Stiles was such a fan favorite that James invited him to hang out over the weekend. They went to see the new Marvel movie and ended up an hour or so early, leaving them to their own devices and to walk around the mall. Which is where they bumped into Scott. He joined them for a while, explaining that he was looking for something to Allison’s birthday next week. The three wandered around together for a few minutes, James and Scott getting along easily. Because, come _on_ , who didn’t love Scott? It was twenty minutes in when he registered James’ careless arm wrapped around his shoulders. It hadn’t been a possessive move like the pack’s usual ones, it hadn’t been sleazy like a date’s. It was just friendly. Normal and human and friendly. And Stiles was thankful. Happy, even. James and Stiles eventually had to leave for the movie, but Scott walked them to the theatre and pulled Stiles into a hug to say goodbye. It wasn’t unusual for them so he didn’t realize the curious look that James was giving him until after.

“Still think we’re fighting?”  
  
“Still think he’s just your best friend?”

Stiles scoffed, “Yes. He’s dating Allison. And besides, we grew up together. And our parents have, like, a thing. It’d be as bad as incest.”  
  
“I’m fucking my sister,” were the next words out of James’ mouth.

An old couple spun around in front of them and Stiles choked on his coke, _What?_

“I’m just joking. God. If anything it’d be my brother.”  
  
“I...”

James laughed, “I’m an only child. I promise.”

The shock slid into amusement and soon Stiles was laughing again.

“Jesus.”

He appreciated the sick twisted humor that stemmed off of his own. It was a lot more fun and advanced than the usual boughs he was subjected to everyday in high school. Yeah, he could get with this. Absolutely.

 

The next day Stiles had James over to play video games. And yeah, maybe he was clutching on to him, but it had been way too long since he had anybody other than the pack over. Derek had been right. He did need something different. Something normal.

The doorbell rang and the Sheriff called up to Stiles, “Scott’s here. I don’t know why he’s ringing the doorbell though.”  
“It’s not Scott,” he yelled back, “Grab it for me? I’ll be down in a sec.”

He vaguely heard his father mumble as he shoved the last few pieces of stray clothing in his room into already overflowing draws. He clomped down the stairs to see James sitting at the counter with his father. They were talking about Hockey over a cup of coffee. He smiled, it was rare to find his father acting so relaxed and domestic with someone he barely even knew. Except Derek. Derek was an exception. Derek was _all_ the exceptions, apparently.

“Ah, Stiles. James was just telling me about your test in Government on Monday.”

He shot James a long sufferable look before smiling at his Dad.

“You know Finstock.”  
  
“Yes. And I know when you said videogames you meant studying.”  
  
“I...you know, James didn't bring any of his stuff and...”  
  
“Of course he did.”  
  
“Of course I did,” James repeated, holding up his notebook.  
  
“Of course he did,” Stiles uttered before saying louder, “Of course he did. So if you don’t mind, we’re going to go upstairs and study and _not_ play FallOut or any other digital game that required a consol.”

The famous raised eyebrow. The familiar drawl of ‘right’.

“James, I’m counting on you to keep him in line,” he said to Stiles’ surprise.  
  
“Of course, Mr. Stilinski.”  
  
And damn, how long had he been upstairs?

“Derek’s coming over at five tonight. I think we’re ordering from Sally’s. Think you can wrap everything up by then?”  
  
“I have to be home by four anyways,” James piped up, “so absolutely.”  
  
“Alright. I’m headed to the station. You guys behave.”  
  
“Yeah Dad. Love you.”  
  
“Bye Mr. Stilinski.”

After he left, James washed his mug (he should give the pack _lessons_ ) and followed Stiles up the stairs and into his room.

“You are the absolute worst,” he claimed as he watched James _actually_ set up his notebook and school work at Stiles’ already cluttered desk.

He laughed before scanning down the list and saying, “Now...define _delegated powers_.”

  
Derek showed up exactly at five. He raised his eyebrow at the new scent in the house but said nothing. That night, Stiles fell asleep on Derek’s shoulder six innings into the Braves/Cardinals game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the idea of Derek & The Sheriff bonding over sports and Stiles just kind of sitting there in between them pouting a bit for being their "third wheel" but loving it at the same time.  
> And I have a head cannon about Finstock shipping his students--bc, let's be real, if I was a teacher I totally would.
> 
> So, what do you guys think so far?


	3. Mets vs Nationals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles confronts the pack and things...well things don't go too well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I was kind of shocked by the response this got. I mean, it wasn't huge or anything but I got some comments (you guys know who you are) which is never a bad thing. So thank you!!
> 
> This is a little more angsty than I usually write...if this even is considered angst (like, I don't know), but on request of a reader, I went a little further than my 'comfort zone'.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy it!

Monday brought a shock to James. As expected, nothing they studied was actually on the exam. After they passed the test forward James let out a slew of curse words and complaints.

“You’ve never had Finstock, have you?”  
  
“What’s that supposed to mean?”  
  
“That all the studying we did this weekend was in vain and I could have told you _that_ last month.”  
  
“What? Why didn’t you say anything?”  
  
“You seemed very adamant on studying.”

James scoffed and shoved at Stiles, which only made him laugh.

“I can’t believe you. You piece of shit.”  
  
“Next time when I say let’s play videogames, just trust me. It’s the only way you survive Finstock’s tests. Just wait until his final.”  
  
“Christ. This cannot be legal.”  
  
Stiles threw his head back again in laughter. As he settled again, he caught Isaac’s gaze across the room. It was sad and muddled and all Stiles wanted to do was wrap the wolf in a hug and make put back the over confident badass look he constantly wore. Instead he gave a small smile that resulted in an unsure one and dropped eye contact.

“Hey, you okay?” James asked suddenly, probably sensing Stiles’ quick morale drop.

The bell rang.

“Yeah. Hey, I’ll catch up with you after?”  
  
“Sure. Are you sure you’re alright?”  
  
“Yeah. Definitely.”

When James left, Stiles quickly approached Isaac. He placed a hand on his arm.

“Isaac?”  
  
“Stiles! Hey. How uh, how was your weekend?”  
  
“Fine? How was yours?”  
  
“Fine.”  
  
“What’s wrong?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Isaac.”

“It’s just...the pack bond. It’s weird without you. I don’t know. It’s like you’re right there but then...not. Like before we merged packs, kind of. Like you’re pack but...but you’re not.”

Stiles only smiled at this. Isaac was more attuned to his wolf than the others.

“Derek said that going to happen. The whole thing is a play on pack bindings. It’s for everyone’s safety really. But, you’re still allowed to talk to me you know.”  
Isaac looked up guiltily.

“It’s just...confused right now.”  
  
“Your wolf?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“It’s okay. Want to go to Poe’s with me tomorrow? Maybe it will help. I heard they’re having a buy three get three special with their sashimi.”“Oh man, definitely.”  
“Okay! Text me. Unless you like deleted my number.”

Another guilty look, “ _Isaac!_ I didn’t _die_.”

“The wolf. It kept trying to get to you. I’ve been to your house like three times already. But instinct is conflicting with Alpha Orders.”  
  
“Okay, not creepy at all. _I’ll_ text _you_. And Derek didn’t say you had to keep a 55 foot distance in radius from me, did he? Oh my god, did he?”  
  
“No, Stiles. Just...text me. I’ll go.”  
  
“Okay. Good.”  
  
A pause, “I think your friend is waiting for you.”  
  
“Scott?”  
  
“James.”  
  
“Oh. _Oh_. Right. See you later then.”  
  
“Bye, Stiles.”

 

Tuesday he hung out with Isaac until late. Wednesday he went over his calc notes with Lydia and Kira. Thursday he and Scott volunteered at the hospital. Friday though, he spent the afternoon with James, Laurel, Amanda and Michael. They went bowling and then hung out at Amanda’s house. It was strange just how easily Stiles fit in with all of them. It was as if he had been there since the beginning. And again, he found himself wondering what his life would be like if sophomore year had never happened.

The Mets played the Nationals that weekend and they ordered Indian.

 

 

For a while, everything seemed to be going alright.

And that, of course, when everything changed.

First, the pack started avoiding him. Even Scott. They ignored his texts and calls. In school they sashayed past him like it was sophomore year all over again. Even Derek only indulged him with a shy smile and a half wave from across the grocery store.

Then, on Tuesday, when he finally had enough, he excused himself from his plans with James and drove straight to the loft. When he got there the sight of the entire pack stopped him. Everyone was  sprawled on the couches and chairs strewn around the space, hanging out and chatting. And when each of them looked up and caught Stiles’ eye they all looked guarded. Especially Derek.

“Seriously?” Stiles hissed, unable to catch himself.

Because really? The pack _never_ did this. Was Stiles the reason? They never would all hang out together and he knew this because he had been trying to make it happen for ages. Sure a few of them would go out and spend time together separately, but they rarely came together like this. Only pack meetings forced them to and they were always an endeavor. And this...wasn’t a pack meeting. No. Pack meetings were every other Thursday. Today was Tuesday. Unless...unless something was happening.

“Stiles,” Scott started, standing.  
  
“What’s going on?”  
  
“You’re not supposed to be here,” was his only response.

“Seriously?” He said again, cocking an eyebrow and looking to Derek.

“He’s right, Stiles. The whole point of this was to remove you from the supernatural. And that isn’t going to work if you’re still coming to pack meetings.”  
  
“So this _is_ a pack meeting. What’s happening? Does my dad need to know?”

Scott glanced up at him shyly and said in a small voice, “Your Dad already knows.”  
  
“Of course he does,” Stiles grumbled.  
  
“You should go.”

They were words he had heard many many times before. But just hearing them come from _Derek_? It hurt more than it should have. So, of course, he did what he knew how to and argued.

“No.”  
  
“Stiles--”

He spun around at Allison’s voice. Sure, they had gotten close over the years. His future sister in law, his half’s other half, one of his best friends. But if _she_ got to be there...if the _hunter_ got to be there, then so did Stiles. And she sure as hell didn’t get to tell him what to do. He was angry and upset and being irrational, and later he would probably realize that, but right now? Right now he was pissed.  

“No, Derek. You said when it came to the pack meetings _I_ got to decide. And I’m deciding. Now, what’s going on?”  
  
“Well you don’t anymore. I’m deciding for you. And I’m telling you to go.”  
  
“No.”

Derek’s eyes flashed. Stiles knew it was just a reflex of him being challenged, (And it didn’t matter the threat. He had flashed his eyes at Lydia’s new cat, Dolce, when Stiles had been watching for a weekend and it had taken Derek’s usual seat on the couch. Stiles had laughed for ages. Even his Dad had a good chuckled at it), but it only made him angrier.  
  
“Stiles! Stop being so goddamned difficult and just listen for once!”

“I’m not your _property_ Derek. I am a full grown adult and can make my own choices!”  
  
“You’re only a teenager, Stiles!” Derek roared back. But then his voice dropped into an eerily cold hard tone when he said, “You might not be my _property_ but you are a part of this pack. And if you wish to remain _as such_ , I suggest you leave.”

He felt his eyes bug and his face drop. He was sure his heart was hammering a thousand beats per second and that he was probably radiating all sorts of emotion. Eyes that had once slipped to Derek made their way around the room. They all refused to meet his eyes. They all refused to _stick up_ for him. To say anything on his behalf. To console him. To reassure him. They all...did nothing. And this was supposed to be his _pack_ . His platform. His support. His friends. His family. His _life_ . All of that was supposed to be rooted in _this_ group of people, right here, in _this_ room. And they were doing _nothing_.

His stubbornness got the best of him, then. He refused to cry in front of them. He refused to be rattled. To be hurt. Betrayed. They _betrayed_ him. Scott had betrayed him. _Derek_ had betrayed him. The two people who he had always made sure to support and to have their backs no matter what, didn’t have his.

He clenched his fists around his keys and took a step back.

“Fine,” his voice didn’t even sound strong to his own ears. He was fooling no one, “I’ll go.”

And with that he shoved his hands in his pockets, turned on his heel and walked out.

 

As soon as the wolves heard the jeep rumble to life they all hopped up to gather around the town map where they had been before they heard the squeaky sound of converse--Stiles’ converse--clomping up the stairs. There were big x’s and o’s, indicating possible threats and safe places along with suspicious areas and targets. Without any warning, Derek began explaining again, the signs, the signals, the warnings, until they heard a broken sob come from a distance. They all flinched and the smells of guilt and distress plagued the room. They all looked towards Derek, expectantly. He glanced down at the piece of ripped paper that held the words “Watch Your Spark” in smooth, confident handwriting that Boyd had found under the wipers on the Camaro.

It meant that Stiles was under threat. It meant that said threat knew where Derek lived. It meant that they had been there, right _there_ and Derek hadn’t even noticed. It meant that none of them--especially Stiles--was safe.

While all of his wolf’s instincts shouted for him to run outside and bring Stiles back inside, keep him close, keep him safe, watch over him while he sleeps, feed him, hold him, wrap him in a blanket and put on a movie for him, he knew. He knew that this was the best way to keep him out of harm. That this was their best shot to keep him alive. Keep him away and keep him safe. He let out a sigh, now, feeling the weight of all of his Beta’s eyes on him. It was final. He decided.

“No one tell him _anything_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter should be up in a few hours actually.  
> I hope you guys like it so far xoxo


	4. Marlins vs White Sox

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stilinski Family Feels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I threw some Claudia feels into the mix because I know how it is to lose a parent to illness and have the "what ifs" pile up. And I always try to include a little bit of myself into my stories, no matter how poorly thought through they are. So, I figured it'd add an element of realness to the mix.  
> Enjoy x

 Stiles wished he could have said that he hadn’t gone home and cried on his bed like a teenage girl. He wish he could have said that he calmly and collectedly did his homework or watched netflix or baked. But no. He cried. It was four in the afternoon and he shoved off his shoes, threw off his bookbag, slid off his jeans and hoodie and buried himself under the covers. And that, of course, is when he started thinking.

What did Derek mean when he said Stiles didn’t get to decide anymore? Were they...oh God were they really going to kick him out of the pack? Was this just a priming period? Were they just weening him off so not to hurt the wolves’ pack bond with him? He said it manipulated the pack bonds and maybe...maybe severed them. Right? Right? It had to be. They had looked happier than Stiles had seen them in a while. All spread out and relaxed. Hanging out like packs should. Spending time together. Better off. God, they just _looked_ better off without him there. Imagine how they must _feel_. Free, relieved, unbothered.

He hugged the blanket tighter around himself as a new wave of tears slid out of him. He had only ever tried to help. Help Scott with the bite. Help Derek with the hunters. Help the pack with...with everything else. And looking back, his “help” had been more detrimental. Look at the Nogitsune. The Argents. Scott’s entire _life_ . A whine came from his lips. It was all his fault. He...it hurt, a lot. Like someone was standing on his chest. But he got it. Get rid of the hyperactive, loser, unfit, _teenage_ , human. And have a better pack. A _stronger_ pack. They’re only as strong as the weakest link. That’s what Derek had said to them during training one day in an attempt to motivate them. The words had stuck with Stiles though. Clearly.

He heard his father come in and ignored his calls. He couldn’t face him right now. He couldn’t face his disappointments to his father as well as the pack right now. The sobs came again, this time muffled by the pillow his face was shoved in. He eventually cried himself into a weary sleep. He dreamt of Derek, coming in from his window, one last time, pushing his matted hair back from his face, kissing his forehead and whispering an apology.

 

He didn’t go to school the next day. His father had taken it in stride. He had always been good about stuff like that. Especially after the whole supernatural world crashed in on them. He ignored texts from James and Michael and Amanda and three from Laurel and just lazed around the house. He found himself on the couch when his father came in from work. He had taken one look at his distraught son and undid his belt and sunk down next to him.

He knew about the “Pack Isolation” but hadn’t exactly spoken to Stiles about it. And he thought that he had been doing pretty well adapting to it, too--because that’s what Stilinski’s did best, _adapted_. Adapted to a life without a mother and a wife, adapted to a parent that had a demanding job, adapted to puberty, adapted to high school, adapted to an impossible supernatural world, all with only a few hiccups along the way. Hence his job in law enforcement. So when he had seen that Stiles had already made new friends and was occupying his free time otherwise, John had figured that it would be a fairly easy month with a lot less teenagers taking over his house and a lot less bloody shirts and sheets.

But seeing his son like this just made him want to punch something. Stiles immediately slumped into his father’s shoulder.

“What’s up, kiddo?”  
  
“This sucks,” was all he said.  
  
“I know. But it’s only another few weeks.”  
  
“They...ugh. It’s not _fair_ . Derek _said_ it would be my choice. That this was all my choice. And then he just goes and takes it all away from me and said that he made “my choice” for me.”

John sighed and brought a hand up to hold Stiles closer to him. Because John knew. John knew about the new pack in town. He knew about the threats. He knew that whatever Derek did was probably necessary. But it didn’t make him less upset for having made his little boy cry.

“Want me to make a visit?”  
  
Stiles snorted, “You’ll only just make it worse.”

He remembered Stiles saying the same thing to him as a tiny seven year old when he had wanted to go talk to Whittemore about _his_ son bullying his son. In the end, Stiles _had_ been right. But he wasn’t too sure if that would have been the case this time around.

“Listen. Whatever this is, it’s for a reason, right?”

He felt Stiles shrug in his arms.

“I’ll admit that I don’t quite understand it, but I know that this group of people wouldn’t do this without purpose.”  
  
“What if--”

“Don’t. You can’t ‘what if’ everything Stiles. It’ll drive you crazy,” he took a breath, “What if...what if I caught the signs of Mom’s dementia earlier? What if we brought her to a different doctor? What if we had taken her to New York for treatment or done trials on her? What if I had known more? What if? She could still be alive today, Stiles.”  
  
“Dad,” a broken voice came from under wet eyelashes, “you can’t do that to yourself. There was no possible way. No way you or anybody else could have known--”  
  
“I know. Stiles. I know that now. But I didn’t then. Like I said, ‘what ifs’ will drive you insane. And just know that. Know that no matter what the situation is, it is. Because ‘what ifs’ are...well they’re exactly that, Son.”

A pause. Recollection.

“Your friends will still be your friends after all of this. They’ll be there for you.”  
  
“But--”

His father only raised a brow.

“How can you know that? I think they seriously just want me out of the pack.”

And how backwards was all of this? The Sheriff should be the one telling Stiles to fuck them all and run for the hills. Telling him that if they aren’t putting in any effort he shouldn’t either. Telling him that they aren’t good friends and he’ll kill them all himself.

But they weren’t just friends, were they? They were pack. Their own ragtag little family that loved Stiles so much. He could see it in everything they did. Even the Whittemore brat. And he could see how much Stiles loved them back. If it had just been friends, yeah, John would have a reason to kick their asses and give them all tickets--he’d sure as hell reach his quota for the month, especially with the way Jackson and Derek drive. But he had a feeling that these people would be around for a lot longer than high school. He had a feeling they would be at each other’s weddings and baby showers and birthdays and funerals. That they would always hold on to each other after everything, the good, the bad and the ugly. Derek had spoken to him, explained what he could, apologized in advance (repeatedly, he might add) and promised to keep Stiles safe with everything he had. And if that didn’t institue that Stiles was _wanted_ , _needed, a part_ of the pack, then he didn’t know what did.

“Call it a father’s intuition. They love you. In each of their own little strange ways. So, maybe just trust them on this?”

Stiles was quiet for a moment before he grumbled, “I’m allowed to be mad,” like he was defending his right to have any feelings about it at all.

“Of course you are. You’re allowed to be pissed to all hell. Go on a small rampage, for all I care. _Of course_ you’re allowed to be hurt. But--”  
  
“But what?”  
  
“You’re not allowed to miss school again this week. Your attendance last year alone was atrocious. I’m surprised they didn’t call CPS on me.”  
  
Stiles snorted, “Yeah, call CPS on the sheriff. That sounds like a great career move. Especially when they'll have 60,000 speeding tickets within the month. And especially if Parish has anything to do with it. Or Mel."

John shrugged, “Besides, I’m sure Lydia wouldn’t approve of this self imposed emotional day off.”  
  
“Please, she takes days off for her period but not the day after she was nearly strangled to death. Priorities.”  
  
“Son, it’s a good thing you swing both ways and have men to fall back on. A woman would have your balls right now.”

Stiles couldn’t help the startled laugh that came from him. All he needed was some Dad time. The very fragile emotional bridge that had been Stiles an hour ago was already strengthening.

It took the doorbell to startle them out of their moment.

“I’ll get it. You go wash your face.”

He nodded and passed through the kitchen to slide into the downstairs bathroom to clean his tear streaked face. He ran his hand through his hair a few times and took himself in. He wore red plaid pajama pants (a Christmas gift from Isaac) and a black t shirt. At least he wasn’t in his batman boxers. No matter who was at the door, it would have been embarrassing for all parties. He shrugged and followed the sound of voices to the front room.

He couldn’t mask his surprise when he saw James standing there smiling gently at him, Laurel and Michael by his side.

“Hey Stiles,” he greeted, voice low and careful.

He hadn’t expected to draw such comfort from it, but he did. He resisted the urge to run over and hug him-- _all_ _of them_. They weren’t quite there yet in their relationship, he didn’t think.

When he said nothing, James continued, “I brought you your work. I, um...hope you don’t mind? I figured we’d stop by and see how you were feeling.”

Feeling? Oh, right. Yes. Feeling. Bad. Terrible. Sick. He saw his father watching on with an amused look as if he knew exactly what Stiles’ mind had been computing. And hell, he was Stiles’ _Dad_. He probably did.

“That, um, that’s so sweet. I was just feeling a little under the weather today. I should be okay by tomorrow.”

“That’s good,” Michael nodded.

Stiles liked him. He reminded him a lot of Boyd in the sense that he was 83% grumbles, 5% witty commentary and 12% teddy bear. He was big and muscled too, but instead of dark skin and eyes, he had lighting blue ones with blonde, shiny hair. Honestly, it could rival Jackson’s.

“I made you some soup,” Laurel said quietly from behind James, holding up a plastic bag.  
  
“Oh. Wow. That’s...that’s like litterally the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me. Thank you. Do...do you guys want to come in?”

Without confirmation, they kicked off their shoes and followed Stiles into the kitchen while his Dad excused himself to get changed.

Stiles heated up the soup for all four of them and James filled him in about the day.

“We had a substitute in Finstock’s. Not that it _matters."_  
  
Stiles laughed, “You still mad about that test?”

“It was bullshit,” he turned towards the other two, “literally it was gibberish. It’s government class and there were questions about World War II and the solar system!”  
  
“I tried to tell him, but _no_ . He had me “ _study”_ ,” he said, throwing a wink at Laurel.

She giggled and Michael huffed in amusement.

Finally, the soup was heated and four bowls were poured. Michael and Laurel carried them into the dining room while Stiles shut off the stove and ran the water into the pan to let it sit. Before he was able to join the others in the room, James grabbed hold of his forearm.

“Are...” he stammered, his voice low and careful as it had been when he had first greeted him. The James that Stiles had gotten to know over the past week or two was confident. He was sure and assertive. So this sudden act of insecurity made Stiles stop in his tracks, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I...yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”

Before he knew what was happening, James was pulling him into a hug. He was about the same height as Stiles, dark brown hair and green eyes, so he was surprised to find himself tucked under James’ chin in the embrace.

“Good. You had me worried.”

Stiles couldn’t help the happiness blossoming in his chest. Someone _cared_. Someone cared that he hadn’t been in school. Someone had been worrying about him. Someone outside of his pack, the people basically required to care about him. It was the kind of caring that was different from a family’s.

He hugged him back tightly and whispered, more to himself than James, “I’m okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Too sappy? Idk. I hope you liked it more than I did.  
> Thanks for reading it through though, you get credit for that.  
> Pretty please comment? I need feedback like I need air.
> 
> Until next time xoxo


	5. Scott vs Stiles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles misses a pack function & Scott is upset about it....basically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I wasn't going to post this until later, but it's 3am (I thought it was like 10pm) and being up that late means bad decisions...like writing this instead of studying for my Cognitive Psychology test on Tuesday or writing my papers or doing my Chemistry homework. You get it. College sucks.
> 
> So, there's a bit of a scuffle here. I hope it isn't too obvious that I can't write fight scenes, but, alas I tried.
> 
> I hope you like my 3am update.
> 
> & as always, unbeta'd (af)

Thursday brought on a whole other form of problems.

It was lunch time and James had to stay in and help Morell with his extra credit project in French Class, so it just left Stiles to his own devices. It wasn’t a particularly nice day out, heavy air before it was going to rain, either way he opted to sit outside. No one else was out there so it gave him a nice quiet place to be and think in peace.

He was composing a text to James when Scott dropped down next to him along with Liam, Isaac and Erica like nothing had ever happened.

He visibly stiffened.

“I don’t like him,” Scott started off with, jerking his chin to Stiles’ phone where James’ message still sat unsent.

“That’s great for you,” his tone unanimated and dull.

“You know,” Scott steamrolled, and Stiles could already hear his eventual passive aggressive comment from here, “you didn’t come to school yesterday or come to Mason’s Birthday Dinner, but you _did_ hangout with _them_.”

First he was confused. What exactly was he insinuating? Then, he was affronted. And then, he was _mad_ . Because _seriously_?

“You’re fucking kidding me. Right Scott McCall?”  
  
He stood up and was shouting. Yeah. It was a scene, but no one was around to see it besides his so called “pack mates”, so he didn’t exactly care.

“I’m not. You weren’t there and I want to know why you decided to spend your time with...with some _strangers_ over you _pack_.”

“Excuse me, but if you don’t exactly _remember_ , I’ve been KICKED OUT OF ALL OF YOUR STUPID SUPERNATURAL ENDEAVORS UNTIL “FURTHER NOTICE”! You basically kicked me out of the pack on Tuesday Scott,” he ignored the whines and noises of protests from the others and continued, “Forgive me if I don’t exactly jump at the chance to go to the next pack function!”

“We didn’t kick you out of the pack Stiles! We’re putting distance between you and us for the safety of everyone. Think about what’s best for the pack, Stiles. Stop being selfish for once and realize that even if your feelings are a little hurt, that it’s what best for everyone, including yourself.”

“Selfish? Are you serious Scott. I always put the pack before me. I always put _you_ before me. And this is what I get? An accusation of being selfish? You know what? Maybe I don’t even _want_ to be a part of the pack anymore. Maybe I’m just done!”

“You might not want to be a part of the pack, Stiles, but you are. And just because you’re hurt or whatever, doesn’t mean you can go out and get yourself a whole new friend group.”

“ _This_...this is what this is about? You’re mad because I made new friends? Jesus Christ, Scott. What are you twelve?”

“That’s not it!”  
  
“No. No, of course not. You’re right. _You’re_ just upset because I’m not right there next to you all the time. Even with everything going on. You just expected me to wait around for you. You’re mad that I didn’t. You’re upset that I’m not there to say ‘how high’ when you tell me to jump or to clean up after your stupid mistakes. I’m not an object Scott! I think you sometimes forget that we’re not all just objects put on earth to make your life happier. I have feelings too. So, when you’re ready to figure it all out, _then_ come talk to me. Because until then, I’m quite enjoying my time not being led around with a goddamned _leash_.”

Stiles turned so quickly that he missed the illuminated sets of eyes, one red, one blue and two amber, looking on from the forest. He walked inside just as the first clap of thunder resonated. And...just brilliant. The top was down in his jeep today. He walked through the hallways and right out the door. He climbed into his half soaken jeep and drove to the only place where he knew he’d be okay. Despite his anger and confusion and insecurities, he drove to Derek’s.

 

By the time he got there, he was soaked. The Alpha opened the door to his apartment, as the loft was only a central place for pack meetings now, how he afforded to pay the rent, Stiles had no clue.

“I had a fight with Scott,” was all he said in greeting.

Derek only swept him once with his eyes before stepping aside and letting him in.

He rummaged through the bathroom and came back with a few towels. He handed one to Stiles, “About?”

He gestured wildly with his arms, trying to encompass it all, “Everything.”

He pretended his voice didn’t sound thin or on the edges of breaking while he dried his hair and stripped off his plaid shirt layered over a heavy tee. Derek disappeared again before reappearing, this time with a t shirt and a pair of sweatpants that must have been Isaac’s. Stiles took them gratefully and slid into the bathroom to change. When he came back out Derek already had a hot cup of tea on the counter for him and the dryer waiting. Stiles only eyed the tea wearily before throwing the clothes in the dryer himself.

“I know you’re mad at me right now, but it’s raining and you’re cold. Just drink it,” he pleaded, regarding the tea.

“Doesn’t mean that I’m still not mad at you.”  
  
Derek nodded, looking relieved, “I know.”

After Stiles took hold of the mug and sunk into Derek’s ridiculously comfortable couch, the man spoke again, “I actually have to go to work in a few minutes.”  
  
“Yeah? How’s that going?”

Derek had been teaching some classes at the local community college. He did a lot with adults and teaching them language (Spanish), but he’s also an adjunct for BHCC’s history program. He didn’t have any classes for that this semester, but he was on the plan for the spring.

He shrugged, “I have some good students this time around.”

Stiles nodded and took another sip from his mug. It was Iron Man and Stiles had made Derek buy it once upon a time ago.

“You should come into the adult class sometime. I think you’d find it amusing.”  
  
“Amusing?”  
  
“Yes. You’d get off on the immature mistakes. Mixing up pen with penis or the repetitive use of fuck because that’s the first word any of them knew before taking an english class.”

Stiles snorted, “Oh yeah, that sounds just like my scene. But yeah, I’ll definitely come with you one night.”

Derek nods. And _of course_ he would go. He’d never give up an opportunity to see Derek Hale _teach_. Because Stiles can hardly take him seriously when he “Alphas”. Also, he’d had a wet dream once about Derek in a sweater vest, slacks and glasses. That was it. No bad touching. Just him. There. That’s it. Granted he had been sixteen and the wind alone could have made him cum then, but it was just the notion itself.

But Derek was practical. He probably wore what he usually wore and talked as he usually talked. But _still_. Stiles stifled a laugh in his hand then, trying to imagine Derek teaching college students in his leather jacket and tight jeans. The man in question just raised an eyebrow at Stiles before requesting that he keeps drinking the warm beverage in his hand.

“Stiles?”  
  
“Hm?”  
  
“Stay the night. I know John has the night shift.”

It warmed him, Derek using his Dad’s name. He supposed several Sunday nights with beer, food and sports did that to a man. Despite all of his confused feelings he nodded. He was almost 99.9% sure that _something_ was happening in Beacon Hills. And something big too, seeing that his Dad was already somewhat involved. So, staying at Derek’s was probably his safest move. He was stubborn, sure, but he wasn’t stupid.

“Take the bed,” he said, “I’ll probably be late.”  
  
Stiles didn’t argue. He knew, in a small very Derek way, that this was a part of a long ass apology for kicking Stiles out. And by him denying the offer of the bed would be Stiles denying Derek’s apology. And eventually, when (he hoped) Derek opened his big green eyes and realized that Stiles was more of a benefit on the inside than the outside and reinstated him fully into the pack with an elevated status and lots of chocolate, he did plan to forgive him,

“This doesn’t mean I’m still not fucking pissed the fuck off with you, Derek.”

The venom was in his voice and he watched Derek twitch before the man spoke, “I know. I know. I’m not asking you to forgive me, just...just trust me, alright?”

“The way you trust me with everything? Yeah, I don’t think so, Hale.”  
  
“Stiles--”  
  
“Whatever. Yeah, sure. Trusting you.”

Derek only nodded once before grabbing his jacket (not his leather one) and opening the door.

“Lock the door behind me.”  
  
Stiles made a committal noise and watched him go. After waiting a few minutes he stood up, locked the deadbolt and clicked on the tv. After a few hours of mindless television, he did his homework, made himself some mac’n’cheese and then watched a movie. The very exciting life of Stiles Stilinski.

 

**Where ru?**

It was a text from James from a little after lunch. He hadn’t check any of his messages, not wanting to deal with anyone else’s bullshit for the day.

**lft aftr lunch wasnt feelin well again**

He knew it was a lie. Obviously. And he hated that he had to lie, especially to James who had been nothing but genuine with him. But he still needed to keep his cover. A few minutes later two messages came through, pinging in one after the other. One was from Derek:

**Still alive?**

And one from James:

**U okay now?**

He texted back a yes to both before furthering James’ text to say that he would be back in school tomorrow and that it was probably nothing. Just a bug or something he had to shake. After a few more minutes of going back and forth with the both of them, Stiles made his way into Derek’s room and tucked himself under the covers.

For someone who was so grumpy all the time, Derek sure did have a comfortable mattress and sheets that had a thread count of like bajillion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are greatly appreciated & are analyzed way too much for my own good.
> 
> Lots of Love & Lots of Sterek x


	6. Astros vs Rangers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is late to school and meets James' family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so little longer of a chapter than usual, but that's because I probably won't be able to update until next weekend. There's this terrible thing called school that I'm required to attend (if the cost of tuition has anything to say about it). If we're lucky though, we might get an update on Wednesday, so keep an eye out!  
> Thanks for coming back for more.
> 
> Love, as always x

 

The next morning he woke to sunlight seeping into room. He rolled over and groaned. Eventually he rolled himself gracelessly out of the bed and teetered into the living room. Blurry eyed, he saw Derek still passed out on the couch. He smiled at the scene before heading into the kitchen to retrieve his cleaned jeans. He pulled them on and rubbed at his eyes, catching sight of the clock. 7:55, it blinked back at him dumbly. For a moment, he let it. Then realization struck him. School started in five minutes. _Shit_. Derek must have heard the jump in his heartbeat because in a second he was there, standing in the doorway, looking disheveled and concerned.

“What’s wrong?” He demanded.

“School!” Was all Stiles said before shoving his books into his bag and grabbing his hoodie.

He ran out of the apartment and down the steps so fast that neither of them realized that Stiles was still wearing Derek’s shirt.

 

He got to school ten minutes late and slid into the seat next to Boyd. For a moment neither of them said anything. Then Boyd’s eyes went comically wide and he leaned in to _sniff_ Stiles. It was weirder when it was in public, trust me.

“What?” Stiles hissed at him.

“You smell like Derek.”  
  
“ _And_?”

“You smell like you rolled around in his bed.”

Stiles felt the blush reach his cheeks.

“Ew,” was all Boyd said.

“Not like _that_ .”  
  
“Mr. Stilinski,” came the teacher’s voice, “Would you like to tell us why you’re disrupting my class? Especially since you came in over five minutes late.”  
  
“N-no. Sorry.”

“Mm.”

She turned back to teaching and Stiles turned back to Boyd.

“Take your shirt off.”  
  
“I... _What?_ ”

“Your shirt. It’s Derek’s right?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Take it off.”  
  
“Now?”

A nod.  
  
“No!”

“Mr. Stilinski! Mr. Boyd! Please leave.”

Stiles sighed dramatically. His Dad was going to kill him.

He silently followed Boyd out into the hallway.

“Why?”

“It’s...the pack thing. The separation. The pack will get confused.”  
  
Boyd sounded like he was trying to convince himself rather than Stiles. He petulantly crossed his arms over his chest, “I don’t particularly care if I confuse your poor werewolves’ sense of smell. You kicked me out of the pack anyways.”

Stiles was surprised to met by Boyd’s...sad?...eyes.

“It’s not like that Stiles.”

“That’s not what I’m hearing from your Alpha and his second. By the way, Scott was a terrible idea for a second. It _should_ have been you. Just because he was almost a True Alpha doesn’t mean he’s the best for that position. I mean, even Jackson would be a better second. I don’t know about an Alpha, but second, sure. Oh my God, Erica would be so badass and like--”  
  
“ _Stiles_. Take the shirt off.”

He opened his mouth to answer when he heard someone their names from down the hallway. He turned to see Michael, James and Tyler. As they approached, James slid an arm around Stiles’ shoulder easily.

“Hey, what are you doing? I thought you had class now.”

“We got kicked out,” he grumbled flickering his eyes up to Boyd’s.

“Ah man, you suck,” James laughed, “Well, we were just headed to the cafeteria to get something to eat. Want to come?”

He shrugged, “Sure. I missed breakfast.”  
  
“Boyd?”

He shook his head, “That’s okay.”  
  
“Alright. I’ll see you around, then.”  
  
Stiles exchanged looks with him, not missing the suspicious look Boyd was giving the group of them, before he turned away and let James’ steady hand, now at the small of his back, lead him down the hall.

 

James bought him a coffee and a muffin because if James had anything, he was a gentleman that didn’t like when Stiles missed breakfast if the angry look he had given him at that comment was anything to go by and if Beacon Hills High School had anything it was a bombass cafeteria. The four of them sat at a table, laughing, joking and talking.

James’ arm was a reassuring weight on his shoulders throughout the day. If it wasn’t his, it was Michael’s or Amanda’s. Laurel had linked their arms together at one point and walked him to class. James’ had waiting for him to walk to Government together even though they usually met there and had handed Stiles one of his favorite drinks from the school vending machine. He felt spoiled, but it was nice to have people taking care of him, even if they just thought he had been sick.

For the most part, it was actually, a pretty nice day. He hardly even realized that Scott had been avoiding him. Which apparently meant skipping Finstock’s and it was only then that he had actually noticed. Kira and Isaac both gave him little waves before sitting down. But said nothing.

James must have felt the shift in Stiles’ mood because he hand rested on knee and that had been all the comfort that Stiles had needed. He smiled up at the boy and knocked into his shoulder in thanks. James flashed him a grin in response and only continued to doodle on the edge of Stiles’ notes.

So yeah, today had been actually pretty nice.

  


That weekend James’ family was having a barbeque. And upon request of his parents, Stiles had been invited. Apparently they wanted to meet the person who had been pulling all of James’ attention lately.

Stiles dressed in his dark burnt orange jeans and one of his many grey henleys (they were cheap and blood came out of them fairly easily). He styled his hair like Lydia had taught him and dug around for an old bottle of cologne. He had stopped wearing it since the whole wolf thing came to light, apparently it bothered their super sniffers. But Stiles wasn’t going to be hanging out with werewolves anymore, was he?

When he pulled up outside of the house, James was waiting for him. He was a ball of nerves. Meeting someone’s family was always a step in the dark. Were they crazy? Were they mean? Were they Republicans? Democrats? Religious? But all of that went away when James wrapped him in a tight hug and pulled him towards the house.  
He was greeted by a middle aged woman with bright eyes and a big smile. She was stirring something in a large bowl that she held in front of her.

“You must be Stiles! Hi, I’m James’ Mom, Lucille.”

“N-nice to meet you Mrs. Grey.”

“Oh please, Lucille’s fine. And don’t be nervous pumpkin! We don’t bite!”  
Stiles snorted, like he hadn’t heard that one before.

“The rest of the family’s out back. Your Dad just pull the grill on,” she told James.

“Um, is there anything I can do?” Stiles asked, remembering his father’s warning to ‘use his manners’.

“Oh!” She put the bowl down and took his face in his hands, “You’re so sweet. James, you got a good one here,” she released him with a smile and he matched her with one of his own, “no, that’s quite alright, dear. Thank you though. James, take Stiles out back. Don’t let him lift a finger. He’s a guest, remember.”

“Sure, Mom. Come on Stiles.”

He followed him through the simple house. It was one of many in a development, so Stiles could most likely navigate himself through it upside down and backwards. Scott lived in a similar one a few streets over.

After he met Mr.--Please call me Tom--Grey, he was bombarded by Laurel and the rest of James’ friends. All six of them greeted him with hugs and slaps on the back.

“There are drinks in the cooler if you’re planning on spending the night,” Tom told him, “the only thing I require is your keys.”

“Oh, I,” he fished around in his pockets until he pulled the ring of keys out. And handed them over, smiling at the chorus of cheers the action got.

They were pretty heavily loaded. He had a small engraved mets bat, a rubber batman symbol, his car keys, his house keys and keys to Scott’s, Lydia’s, Derek’s (the loft and the apartment) and Erica’s. Everyone in the pack had Stiles’ key. He was suddenly overcome with sadness. With the pack, sure they had their learning curve and the constant bumps and bruises, but it had been _good_. He wondered if he’d ever get that with anyone else. The silent trust, the constant reassurance, the dependency, the pack mentality. Stiles would have gone to war for any of them in a second and he had thought they it had gone both ways.

He was suddenly pulled from his thoughts by an icy Corona being shoved in his hands and a familiar arm around his waist.

“To Stiles!” Amanda shouted, raising her own bottle, “Welcome to the family!”

 

James’ family was completely nice and completely normal. They told stories of old times, their kids growing up, their own times in high school, talked about the news and politics and sports. Stiles found himself being easily swept up into conversations about any and everything, James a constant weight by his side. It reminded him of Scott. A solid presence after a bad night or a panic attack, always there, quiet, steady, dependable. And maybe that was where he’d gone wrong. Maybe this is all he needed, a good friend. Scott hadn’t been that for a long time. Granted, there had been a lot going on. And granted that Stiles hadn’t been the best friend he could have been either. Maybe it was his support that he was missing. And James had swept right in and taken his weight unknowingly.

He let out a hiccup and James laughed beside him, “Looks like somebody had a few too many.”  
  
“Oh please,” Stiles huffed, “I could drink you under the table.”  
  
“Oh yeah? Try me.”  
  


“Maybe I will.”  
  
So yes, Stiles had been on number five or six for that night. But he was indulging. It had been a while since he’d been able to get drunk without having to worry about the consequences or having to worry about some sort of supernatural _thing_ trampling through the party. He took another sip of his drink before squinting his eyes at James who was watching him with amusement.

“Flip Cup!” Yelled someone.

“Oh it is _on_ ,” James called.

Stiles stood with him, determined to beat James at...whatever this game was. He tumbled forward a little as he stood up, unsure if it was an alcohol thing or just a Stiles thing. Either way, a hand made it’s way to his back again and Stiles felt himself leaning into the touch.

“My Hero,” he swooned jokingly.

James just ducked his head, red splotches danced up his neck and cheek. Stiles stared at him, trying to decided if he was actually blushing or if was just a flush from the alcohol.

“Hey! Mr. and Mrs., are we playing or what?”

They swung around to see the others waiting for them around the table. He looked up at James once more, this time knowing it was a blush, as he now matched in coloring, before grinning and nearly running over the the already set up table.

“Let’s do this.”

 

Several hours and several drinks later and Stiles was definitely drunk. The adults had all gone inside and left the teenagers to their own devices. Fen and Tyler made a fire while Laurel, Michael, James and Stiles all roasted marshmallows over it. They were all laughing and chatting away happily as they ate and drank. They were strewn across each other and bumping limbs and hands and legs. And Stiles was on cloud nine.

Stiles remembered being handed a can, as they were all out of bottles now and being dared by Amanda to shotgun it. They both stood to do it and went on Tyler’s countdown. He did the best he could, but ended up only being able to do half of it and spitting the rest out.

Everyone laughed and Stiles felt himself smiling. When Fen demanded that he try it again, James put a stop to it all. A chorus of whines and cried came from the intoxicated group but Amanda silenced them all with a gag and retching sound from the corner of the lawn.  
“Gross,” Laurel said scrunching her nose.

This made Stiles laugh hysterically for a solid five minutes before he could calm himself down. He blindly followed James into his room, having lost track of the others...well he couldn’t quite remember when. They two leaned on each other for balance as they giggled and stumbled their way up the stairs.  
“Stairs are a bad idea. They should never have been invented.”

James snorted in agreement. They fell together on top of the bed, clothes and shoes still on, already too asleep to care.

 

Stiles woke to a heavy arm keeping him pinned to the bed. He slowly opened his eyes to see that they had shifted in the night and that they were...oh God, they were spooning. And Stiles was the little spoon. Kill him now. He groaned as a flash went off from the doorway. He lifted his head to see Amanda smirking from the other side of the room, her phone in hand, undoubtedly having taken a photo.

He groaned.

“Rise and Shine, whimps!”

“Lucille made pumpkin pancakes!” Came Laurel’s sweet and oh so _loud_ voice.

“There’s also ibuprofin and gatorade.”  
  
“That I can get behind,” Stiles muttered into the pillow.

James’ only response was to pull him in tighter.

“Lemme go,” Stiles demanded, pushing himself away.

“Five more minutes,” James growled.

“Nooo.”

He supposed he should have been more weirded out to have woken up with somebody holding him or cuddling him. But he had run with wolves for the past three years now and, obviously, they were tactile creatures. It wasn’t uncommon to end up smooshed beneath a warm body that you had fallen asleep several feet away from or to find someone in your bed with you, them having joined you in the middle of the night (Jackson and Isaac were often repeat offenders).

The house was empty, excluding the teens, as they ate. Lucille and Tom both had headed into work, like who even works on Sundays? Oh _shit_ . It was _Sunday._ His Dad. _Derek_. It was an early game day. He mumbled out a quick apology and started rushing to his car, grabbing a bottle of gatorade and exchanging hasty goodbyes to everyone. James stopped him right before he slid out the door. He wrapped him in his arms and held him for a second.

“Calm down, Stiles,” he chuckled, “I don’t want you getting into a car accident just because you’re so worked up.”

“I’m okay. I just haven’t taken my adderall for a while.”  
  
“You have ADHD?” James pulled back frowning.

Stiles felt himself shifting uncomfortably, “Y-yeah.”  
  
“Huh, I never would have guessed.”

Stiles laughed, “My Dad’ll love that.”

James gave him a crooked smile before releasing his arms.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Absolutely.”

 

Stiles returned home to an empty house. His father left a note on the kitchen island explaining that he had gotten called into work and he was unsure when he would be home. He was kind of bummed, the Rangers and the Astros were on tonight and while Stiles didn’t really follow either team, the rivalry was always fun to watch. He ordered a pizza and watch the game into its seventh inning.

Derek never showed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible Update Wednesday
> 
> Comments are loved & cherished.  
> Thanks so much for reading.  
> Lots of Love & Lots of Sterek  
> xoxo


	7. Giants vs Padres

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The week goes on. James and Stiles have a bit of a moment...or two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes. I am the worst college student to ever student. I have so much work, probably more than I realize, but here I am. Updating. Smh. My mother's probably twitching where ever she is right now.
> 
> But anyway, I wanted to thank you all for the love & support you guys are showing. Honestly, I read every comment like three times a day.  
> For any of you who don't write, let me just tell you how amazing getting a comment is. It's like idk cuddling up on the couch on a rainy day and having someone make tea the exact way you like and to have Wifi/Tumblr/Netflix working perfectly. The fact that someone took the time out of their day to read, let alone think up and type out a comment, no matter how long or how short, is just like a little piece of heaven. Honestly, it's amazing and thank you all so much.
> 
> I'm going to take this time to give a small shoutout to blackrose24 & scraphound. Your comments give me life and I'm constantly looking forward to what you guys think of the chapter. So thank you very very much, you two constantly make my day.
> 
> Sooooo....the chapter. The REAL reason you guys are here. I wrote it instead of typed it for the first draft and my writing always takes on a different form depending on the medium used. I hope it's up to your guys' standards and that it keeps you interested. It's kind of short but I promise length in the future.
> 
> Keep your eyes open because the next chapter (which currently working on, like right this second) is where shit gets real.
> 
> Here's Chapter 7 (omg), I hope you like it.  
> PS~sorry for the long ass note  
> Lots of Love & Lots of Sterek

After two long weeks of teetering emotions, Stiles was _tired_. The weekend had been a nice escape, but Monday brought back school and reality.

The day came and went so quickly it was concerning. He felt like he was slowly falling into a slump. Like the darkness was sneaking itself around him and pulling him down, like arms were wrapping around him and dragging him into a deep empty abyss without an exit.

He spent the whole day so checked out and miserable that he didn’t notice the looks--both from the pack and James--that he was drawing. He did, however, notice the way _Scott_ had looked at him. And that alone seemed to ignite an anger inside of him that was so deep and genuine that it was hindering. He hadn’t even waiting for James when the bell rang, as he usually did. He stomped his way out of the classroom, across the school, passed his locker and straight outside to the jeep. As he started the engine, he fought every instinct that he had to dive to Derek’s.

The “Alpha” didn’t want to see him anymore. He had made himself clear enough.

Once he got home, he threw his bag and coat onto the ground by the couch, grabbed a soda from the refrigerator, a box of Star Wars Cheez-its and flicked through the tv until he settled on Bob’s Burgers. After about an hour or so, he was calmed enough to feel kind of guilty for taking out his shitty attitude about his issues with the pack on _James_ , who had nothing to do with it at all. But, his emotions, right now, were out of his control. He was _allowed_ _to be upset_. His Dad had said so. But, none the less, it was a guilt he didn’t need to add to the already heavy load on his shoulders.

So, when James and Laurel showed up at his house that night with movies and a pizza, he wanted to cry. He immediately hugged them both and let them set up in the living room.

“What did I ever do to deserve you guys,” he asked, half joking.

James snorted, “Not enough.”

That drew a laugh from Stiles and a sigh from Laurel.

“Oh, come on,” Laurel tsked, her little voice firm in scolding, “You’re our friend, Stiles.”

James suddenly stopped moving and turned from where he was crouched in front of the DVD player, putting the movie in.

“We...we could tell something was wrong today. You weren’t being yourself. And...like Laurel said, you’re our friend.”

The girl mentioned reached out to put her hand on his shoulder, “And we take care of our friends.”

She smiled shyly up at him. Stiles caught her eye and mirrored it. Then James was there, slinging his arm around Stiles, by now, it was a familiar and welcomed gesture. He pulled Stiles back on the couch with him and jostled his shoulder in a friendly manner.

“You belong to use now,” he grinned, “you better get used to it.”

And at that, despite his horrible, no good, very bad day, he couldn’t keep the smile from his face for the rest of the night.

 

Tuesday, Amanda drive the whole group of them--Laurel, Tyler, Fen, Adam, Michael, James and Stiles--to a minigolf course directly from school. They all piled in her minivan, laughing, singing and complaining the entire way.

Fen came in first, while James, right after Stiles, came in last. Unexpectedly, this resulted in a plethora of small and stupid competitions throughout the rest of the night. Tyler, the “Mom” of the group, drew the line when they started counting the sprinkles on their ice cream.

He came home to his father making grilled cheese and tomato soup--an apology meal for missing their Sunday tradition. Stiles happily sat at the table with him and talked and ate, the Giants/Padres game playing the background. It was a perfect ending to a near perfect day.

 

Wednesday and Thursday passed in a similar fashion. Stiles was so caught up in James and the others that he had nearly forgotten that the pack was avoiding him. Until...well until he remembered. Friday, he had wandered into the locker room, expecting to meet up with James and MIchael to go on a run, and came face to face with none other than Scott and Liam. The younger of the two, perked up when he saw Stiles, face open and inviting. Scott, his “best friend”, however, frowned and turned away in something that mirrored disgust...something that mirrored the exact same way that he had looked at Stiles after Theo had told him about Donovan.

 _That look_ brought forward a whole onslaught of emotion that he didn’t know he had been holding in, hiding them so far under that not even he knew they were there. As soon as the two wolves had left, he slid down the wall in distress and despair, holding his head in his hands and slamming his eyes shut while trying to regulate his breathing.

James found him there a little while later. He placed a tentative hand on his knee, making Stiles start.

“What happened?”  
  
“I--nothing. Nothing, I’m fine.”

“Stiles,” his voice held a warning to it.

“Seriously, James. It’s nothing. Just a bit of an overreaction. I’m fine.”

“Stiles,” he sighed as he lowered himself from the crouch he held in front of him so that he was now sitting next to him. Legs and arms pressed together, “I know you’re lying. Come on, what is it? It’s not nothing if it’s got you like this. And _this_ is not fine, Stiles. What happened?”

Stiles felt himself fall under his emotions once again--anger, dread, confusion, sorrow.

“Why,” he choked out, “Why are you so nice to me?”

The questioned seemed to startled James as much as it had startled Stiles by slipping past his lips, “What?”  
“Out of nowhere. Why are you so nice to me?”

“If this is seriously why you’re acting like this then--”  
  
“That’s not...it’s not it. I just...why? I’m...no one _wants_ to be friends with me. They just...it just kind of happens. No one actually _wants_ to spend time with me.”

A pause.

“I do,” James uttered so quietly that Stiles had almost missed it.

When he looked up, James wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“But...but why? My...my friends don’t. They--they realized I was...that I wasn’t _good_ enough and that I’m more of a liability than anything and--”  
  
“Is _that_ what all this has been about? Your friends?” There was an edge to his voice. It made Stiles flinch.

“I--I mean...not...not--”

“Stiles. I’m not stupid. I’m not the smartest in the room, but I’m not stupid.”  
  
“I never said--”

“I’ve noticed, hell we’ve all noticed, your “friends” ignoring you. We assumed that it was what’s been making you upset lately, but we didn’t want to say anything until you were ready to talk about it. And we sure as hell didn’t realize it was making you feel like _this_ ,” he gestured to Stiles, still slumped hard against the wall.

“It’s a bit more than--”

He held a hand up, stopping him, “What you need to understand is that they are idiots. Yes, even Lydia Martin. They’re stupid not to have held you close to them and for not seeing how amazing you are. And I bet that they’re missing you even more than you’re missing them, Stiles. Because you’re great. Really. And I know that we’re not a replacement for them, but you have _us_ now Stiles. And we _do_ realize how amazing you are.”

A silence.

“Come on. You need a night to rewind. There’s a party tonight. You’re coming.”

James stood suddenly, holding out a hand for Stiles to take. He grabbed it and hauled himself up, coming face to face with James. He looked down.

“I don’t...I don’t really know if I’m up for--”

“As your new friend and confidant, I’m calling in a favor. We’re going.”  
  
“A favor?”

James snorted and clasped Stiles on the back, leading him out of the locker room, their run long forgotten.

“Uh, yeah. You let me study for Finstock’s test, remember?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmmmm
> 
> I'm finishing up the next chapter as we speak, but I might withhold it until the weekend, just to make you guys wait a little longer *smile*
> 
> The climax is coming up in the next chapter, so, hopefully I'll see you then!!  
> & as I mentioned in the beginning note (yeah, that essay I wrote), I do love comments <3  
> Thanks for reading x


	8. Philies vs Reds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the part where the rap breaks down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, because I suck and have no spine, here's chapter eight (I'm updating this for you Jluis! Although I do not indorse or support drug use of any nature ;*).
> 
> The plot picks up a little bit here and we get some explanations and well, there's a little moment in here that I enjoyed writing quite a bit. I'm sure y'all will figure it out. I'm not really a fan of this chapter myself, but this fic was started to get me out of a writing slump and had the purpose of being a kind of "throw away" piece that we didn't talk about. But hey, I have about 9 of those already...I did not expect people to actually like it, so, again, thank you.
> 
> Oh, and WARNING for a bit of gory description. Do I have to tag that? Idk.
> 
>  
> 
> Side Note: Because I'm trash and never finish anything ever, I'm a bit uneasy uploading this part because I haven't written past this point yet. I have a general outline of where this is headed and everything, but I'm nervous I'll just...idk internally combust and not finish this fic. I have, what 12 works on here? And like all 12 are WIPs (not really, but enough of them are that I constantly feel bad about it so...) So far I've been pretty good with this, so I'm hoping I'll stay true (unlike Hamilton).
> 
> Anyways, I know no one really reads the author/chapter notes, so...  
> I hope you enjoy the chapter!!
> 
> Love, always x

That night, he opted to wear one of his many henleys and jeans. It took very little convincing for his father to give his okay.

“You need the break, Kid. Just, be smart, alright?”

“Smart’s my middle name,” had been his answer before giving him a hug and a kiss goodbye, grabbing his sweatshirt and driving to James’ to meet with the others. Michael was the unfortunate DD for the night, borrowing Amanda’s infamous minivan, in which she had named Jeff. Like on Tuesday, they all piled into the old car and Michael drove them to a house in on the other side of town. From there, they continued on a path that lead them into the woods and towards the sound of a crowd. _Oh. This was a college party._

See, parties weren’t Stiles’ usual scene--the stumbling drunk people, yelling and screaming and flirting with everyone only to end up completely disregarding them in school the next day. And, let it be known, he and Scott hadn’t been the firsts on anybody lists “cool enough” to be hosting a party. So, naturally, he had conditioned himself find them unappealing. Sure, he had gone to (& even enjoyed) some of Lydia’s and Jackson’s parties, but that was because there had been pack there. And wherever the pack went his metaphorical home went and so he went. He did have James and the others with them, but of course it wasn’t the same.

Needless to say he was weary. Especially in the middle of the woods. Yeah...he didn’t have a  good track record with being in the middle of the woods in the middle of the night.

Laurel seemed to sense his discomfort (and wow, Stiles had never even considered going to a highschool party as a freshman) and tucked her hand into his.

“You alright?”

He nodded, “Yeah. Parties...well parties aren’t really my thing.”

She laughed, “Mine either. I just came to keep Michael company. I don’t drink.”

He smiled down at her and joked, “Good, you’re too young.”

“I’m older than you think,” she joked back.

“Oh yeah, you're a regular old woman.”

Her laugh was like a bell, her warm brown eyes squinted in joy, her smile big and carefree. And God, did Stiles wish for the simpler days.

“This is a college party, isn’t it?”

“I think. There are a lot of people we know here though,” she said looking around.

Stiles followed her gaze, “I guess you’re right.”

“Hey Stiles?”

“Hm?”

“I, uh...well James told me what happened today. About your friends? And I just want to say that...well that they _are_ idiots and...that I think you’re wonderful.”

Stiles opened his mouth to reply but never got the chance. Amanda was pulling him away towards a group of other people, demanding that he take a shot with them. He looked back at Laurel, only to see her give him a little wave of understanding before a plastic shot glass was being shoved in one hand and a beer in his other. James winked at him from across the circled group and threw the shot back with the rest of them, eyes never leaving Stiles’.

He mentally shrugged. He didn’t think tonight could be too bad. He took his shot, and then another and then another. Yeah, tonight would be okay, he decided.

 

 

_John Stilinski woke to his phone vibrating across the top of the coffee table. It was midday, Sunday. His day off. No one should be murdered on his day off, he thought sourly to himself as he reached for his phone. To his surprised, however, Derek’s name flashed across the screen. His stomach dropped. If Derek was calling him out of the blue like this on a Sunday morning, it couldn’t have been good. Unless...unless he was just calling to ask what they wanted to eat for the game? Maybe? All traces of his optimism diminished however, when he heard Derek’s voice on the other line. Worried, panicked and gruff._

_“Sheriff.”_  
  
_“Derek?”_  
  
_“Where’s Stiles?”_  
  
_“Um...”_  
  
_“Is he with you?”_  
  
_“No.”_  
  
_“I need you to meet me at the Hale house. Erica found something.”_

_He grunted and hung up, already pulling on his shoes and scribbling a note for Stiles to find when he came home. He was at James’ house still. He was safe . John sighed as he climbed into the squad car and made his way towards the preserve._

_The sun shone bright from its spot in the afternoon sky. The leaves were changing and the colors in nature were darkening. Despite the beauty of it--his wife had always loved the fall--a strange heaviness sat in the air as he parked and stepped out of the car._

_Erica was waiting for him at the beginning of the blocked off road._

_“Sheriff Stilinski,” she greeted, her usual bubbly voice gone and her eyes dark and hard._

_He nodded in acknowledgement and followed her up the trail that lead to the old Hale house._

_There Derek and Scott stood in deep discussion, Liam, Boyd and Allison off to the side._

_“John,” Derek turned to him._

_“What is it?”_

_Without a word he walked into the house and without hesitation he followed. There lay a torn open deer, it’s head hanging from its body by just a few strands of skin and muscle. It’s stomach was ripped open, it’s guts folded out of it, the smell of blood and pus filled the room. It’s dead eyes looked straight into John’s. They were beady black and he forced himself to look away._

_“You found it here?”_

_“Yes,” Derek answered with a slight lisp that the Sheriff had come to recognize as him talking around his fangs. Stiles would often tease him about it, but John was still too terrified of it all to even mention it. Now, however, it felt oddly familiar and therefore comforting._

_“So...what is this? A challenge?”_

_“That’s exactly what it is,” Derek nodded, “Stiles is still with his friends?”_

_“Yeah. He should be home soon though. His friends...they’re...they’re not...?”_  
 _They’re not what, John? Werewolves? Supernatural killers? Fairies? Vampire bats? Kitsunes? What?_  
  
_“Scott,” Derek hardly managed to get out before he and the rest of them shuffled in._

_“I haven’t smelled anything off about them. Just...normal teenagers,” he spat out, anger clear in his voice._

_John shook his head, “And this?” He gestured, “A werewolf?”_  
  
_Derek’s eyebrows wiggled before answering, “You think it could have been something else?”_

_John held up his hands, “I have no idea. I’m still new to everything. I just thought I’d confirm. And old officer habit.”_

_“It wasn’t a hunter,” Allison points out, “there’s no method to the kill. Just...”_

_“It barely has a smell ,” Erica growled, her eyes illuminated as she stood over the deer, taking it in again._

_“I’d put money on the assholes in our territory,” came a voice from the doorway._

_John was the only one to startle. Jackson was now present in the doorway, glaring at the deer like it personally offended him. And knowing the Whittemore’s, it probably did._

_The air was heavy with tension and anger and John wanted nothing more than to diffuse it. But he stayed silent._

_These teenagers--these children --knew more of how to handle all of this than he did. He wish they didn’t. He wished with his whole heart and being that none of them, including his son, had ever been apart of this world. He wished Derek still had his family. That Allison still had her mother. That Scott still had his life. That they all would have been hanging out somewhere this weekend drinking or smoking or doing anything that goes against all of his instincts, instead of looking for some potential killer and definite threat._

_“There’s no trail,” Isaac confirms, stepping in beside Jackson, eyes downcast, lips twisted into a glum expression.  He wanted to hug the boy._

_Derek must have had the same pull because he grunted, “It’s okay. There’s hardly a scent at all.”_

_Isaac only nodded but stayed silent. And John was suddenly overwhelmed. By the fact that something was threatening his son. By the fact that werewolves existed. But mostly by the fact that he was still calm and okay. But that was only true because the pack, these people, they were all here for Stiles. They were all here instead of at whatever they had planned for their weekends. They were hunting down whatever this invisible threat was, to make sure Stiles was safe. These people would rather have Stiles despise them all then be hurt. Not for the first time, he recognized the love of family. And not for the first time he was overwhelmed by the amount of care and solidarity this group had. He was...he was thankful, for one. He was thankful and it would all be okay. They would keep Stile safe, no matter the cost. And, from where he stood, they would all be willing to pay it, whatever it was, when it came time to._

_Derek ended up sending them all home with a promise that they would all meet after school the next day. John stayed however, sensing the boy’s distress. After a few moments, he followed Derek to their parked cars._

_“How’s Stiles?”_

_He paused. Not great. But Better._

_He said this and watched as a mix of emotions flitted across Derek’s face._

_“He’s been coming home later. Spending a lot of time with James and Laurel and um...the rest of that group. After his and Scott’s fight though--”_  
  
_“Yeah,” Derek agreed, he knew._

_Just the look of Stiles alone when he’d gotten to Derek’s was enough. It also helped that Erica had come barging into his office during his break between classes to tell him everything._

_“Seriously?” She had spit out, “Now is not the best time for a jealousy fit. I swear to God, McCall’s a ten year old girl! You should have smelt Stiles, Derek. He was so...ugh. If we didn’t have a pack of lunatics that wasn’t hunting our pack then I would have broken Scott’s arm.”_

_While he had been furious, Derek understood. Tensions were high and it was hard keeping Stiles at arms length when all everybody wanted to do was keep him close._

_It seemed to be working so far. Or at least that was the conclusion that they had all come to. Keeping Stiles away from them seemed to keep his identity somewhat of a secret. Lydia had pointed out that if they had wanted to strike, they would have done so already, seeing that Stiles is, on the surface, unprotected. She went on to speculate that they didn’t know who the Spark was yet and that was why Stiles has been safe and under no immediate threat yet. It seemed plausible. Made sense. So they kept their distance._

_This, this though was a hit to home. A deer, nearly slaughtered to death at the old Hale home. This was a threat, a promise. Whatever was out there, whoever was out there, wouldn’t be out there long. No, it would be right there in front of them. Ready and deadly. And Derek didn’t know if he was ready._

_John sighed, drawing Derek out of his thoughts. He was looking down at his phone, at what was presumably a text from Stiles. Derek had half a mind to text Stiles himself and apologize for not being there. But the distance was good. Safe. It had been a close call the other day when he had fled the house wearing Derek’s shirt. Boyd had called him from school. The smell. He had smelled like Derek. The Alpha. And while his wolf had preened at that, he knew that it was tipoff one that Stiles was well...Stiles. As he had told John earlier, he would rather have Stiles mad at him than dead. He had promised the man, and himself, a long time ago, that he would do whatever it took to keep Stiles safe. Whatever it took._

_“I think I’m headed to the station. Might as well do what I said I was. Are you going over?”_

_Derek shook his head, “I think I might look more into this.”_  
  
_“Are you sure? I’m sure Stiles would like your company.”_

_“It’s alright.”_

_John sighed and placed a comforting hand on Derek’s shoulder. He leaned into the touch and John smiled kindly._

_“Yes, Derek. It is alright. Why don’t you go home? Take a breather. We’ll attack this tomorrow. I’ll stop over after work and we’ll compare notes.”_  
  
_“What if tomorrow’s too late? We can’t just sit around and let--”_  
  
_“Derek. I think you're forgetting that Stiles is my son and I would do just as much as you, if not even more, to assure his safety. But we can’t do anything when we’re all keyed up like this. Which is why I’m assuming you sent your pack, that was readily motivated, away, whether you know it or not. Take it from a long time cop who’s seen just about everything, son. We’ll take a look at it tomorrow. I promise.”_

_The werewolf paused for a moment, breathing in the smell of Stiles, almost an afterthought of the Sheriff’s scent. After a full minute of consideration he nodded._

_John gave him a friendly pat on the arm, “Good. I’ll see you tomorrow.”_

 

That had been Sunday. Today was Friday and John was leaving the house at four am, pajamas still on under his Sheriff coat. His whole body felt cold from the adrenaline and he was barely awake. In his state of being half awake/half asleep, he was on autopilot and therefore didn’t even realize that he had run the light.

 

 

Stiles and James were sitting on the railing of the porch, bodied pressed next together as they struggled to fit in the small space between the pillars. The party had made its way back to the house when a large group had demanded that they wanted to swim. Stiles had followed dutifully behind the crowed and was a little upset at the fact that he had to leave the warmth of the fire, but when Amanda had thrust another drink in his hand--this time unlabeled and in a red solo cup--he was all smiles again.

People were yelling and screaming and flirting, like Stiles had thought, but to his surprise, he wasn’t bothered by it. Which, when he would be sober, he would take into account that it was because it was because he was _one of_ the stumbling drunk people. He was pretty sure that he had seen Jackson there, drinking and yelling with the others, but after only a moment, his blonde head disappeared behind a sea of college frat boys.  
Other than that, it was nice, just letting everything else slip away. Not thinking about Scott or Derek or school or the Pack. His only focus was on James and making him believe that Pokemon Go was one of the greatest inventions of this time period. The other, firmly disagreed, but Stiles was almost positive that he was only saying that to argue. They sat in a muted corner, Stiles unsure if it was just the structure of the house or if it was the alcohol.  
After the argument about Pokemon, (Whatever, Stiles didn’t even have it downloaded onto his phone. Scott and Kira did, so it was a secondary...tertiary(?) loyalty thing) and a discussion about the game the other night (it was a Phillies/Red game and it had _sucked_ ) they found themselves talking about college and the future and everything along those lines. James wanted to go to school in the east, while Stiles spoke about his dreams of Stanford or Berkeley. It was when on a rant about whether to have two kids or three kids, that he found James kissing him.

For a moment he was startled. Both of his hands raised in the air, not knowing where to go or what to do. But then his hazy mind urged him, _“Go on. It’s okay. Safe. This is safe. Nice. James is nice to you. Good. Go.”_ So he went. He brought his hands up to James’ back and let himself be kissed. It was wet, opened mouth and sweet. He felt hands in his hair and one on his waist. At the nibble of his bottom lip, he gripped James’ shirt tighter and leaned into it more. After a moment, they pulled away. Both of their eyes remained closed and their foreheads remained touching.

“Stiles?” James’s voice.

“Mm. Mmhm?”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, “I’m okay.”

“Good.”

This time, the kiss was stronger, passionate and deep. Stiles could feel where the previous hesitation sat now that it sat there no longer. James had dragged him nearly into his lap as their mouths moved together easily. At this, Stiles slid his hands up to tangle in James’ hair, pulling them even closer while James’ hand slid up the front of Stiles’ shirt and the other still held his waist. It was a long kiss, drawn out and slow. Like James had been wanting to do this all along. A tongue swept at the bottom of Stiles’ lip and stayed there until they were breathless.  
Finally, something was going right in his life. He was in James’ arms. Someone who liked him for him, someone that was always there, a reassuring arm around his shoulders, a kind smile, a bad joke. Something normal. A bubble of sheer happiness overcame him and he surged into the kiss with even more fever than before. James responded with a chuckle and kissed him back equally as hungry. Stiles threw his arms around James’ neck. The other boy’s hands wandered, first holding his waist, then wrapped around Stiles’ thing torso like a hug, but they found solace eventually. With one arm, he cradled Stiles, and with his free hand, he held the back of his head firmly. They kissed until they couldn’t kiss anymore. There was a pleasant burn in Stiles’ chest at how long they had gone without air, how long they had gone with just pure passion and longing. Something light settled within him. Until, of course, he flicked his gaze up to see two glowing amber eyes staring back at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand a bit of a cliffhanger for your troubles.
> 
> Soooo how was the kissing scene? I've never reall written a strong one before.
> 
> Since I won't be seeing you guys for a few days (classes and all that real life stuff, it gets you, you all know), here is where I shamelessly give my self a shoutout to my other works, check them out, I always love a good critique.
> 
> And a quick reminder that I am always, always taking requests...here: http://midnightcas.tumblr.com/ask  
> Or, ya know, you can just drop by and say hey!
> 
> I hope you're enjoying the fic so far!


	9. Seventh Inning Stretch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...nothing really happens in this chapter. Just a filler until tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick update...literally. It's only about a thousand words, but I figured I'd put it up while I work on the next chapter--which will be longer and just...MORE--that will be posted sometime tomorrow.
> 
> I tried to get the essence of everything happening too quickly for thoughts. A lot of confusion, no real feelings, just things...happening. It's supposed to be fast paced and breathless. Idk if I actually captured that, though.
> 
> I'm not a super fan of this chapter, but I'm not a super fan of this fic, so.
> 
> I hope you like it regardless. It's...it's like a little preview of tomorrow's update :) which will FINALLY involve some STEREK.
> 
> Also, while I've gathered you all here today....my next work will be published right as this one finishes, so if you're interested and I haven't tarnished my reputation (what reputation?) with this fanfic, keep an eye out!
> 
> -midnight x

Time stopped.

He couldn’t move.  
He couldn’t breathe.  
Of course.  
Of _course_ _!_  
How could he have been so incredibly stupid?  
Of course.  
No one...no one _wanted_ Stiles. No one--  
  
He stumbled backwards, thoughts swirling around in his head.  
  
He couldn’t concentrate.  
Couldn’t think.  
He needed to think.  
He needed to think.  
  
It was James reaching towards him, seemingly in slow motion, that made his brain catch up to itself. He pulled away.

Werewolf.  
In Territory.  
Dangerous.  
Threat.  
Tell the Pack.  
Tell Derek.  
_Need to tell Derek._

“Stiles!” James cried, finally making Stiles’ gaze lock onto his.

"N-no."

James wouldn’t hurt him here. Not in front of all of these people.

The safety Stiles had only felt a moment ago now ran cold. His still swollen lips tingled in regret. He felt his eyes glaze over, a practiced action that kept any and all emotions from showing to the outside world.  
  
His hands were shaking.  
His mind was blank.  
The only thing he could focus on was the fact that he needed to get to Derek.  
That he needed to warn his pack.  
Isolation or not, he had to tell them.

“I can explain,” James pleaded, jumping to wrap a hand around his forearm.

“S-stay away from me.” His voice was low and cold. He turned on his heel and stalked off the porch.  
  
“Stiles!”

Another fire, this one small and makeshift, had created itself on the edge of the lawn. Stiles’ mind catalogued this as possibly the biggest fire hazard _ever_ , before continuing on. As he neared it, however, a body placed themselves in front of him.

“Stiles!” Amanda cried, happily, “I saw you and James gettin' down and dirty on the porch just a second ago. It’s about time. Honestly. The sexual tension was getting _so ridiculous_ that we practically had bets going. If you’re looking for condoms, I don’t have any in the van. My parents sometimes use it on the weekends. Can you say awkward? But there’s always the good ol’ blow--”

He nearly growled before shoving past her and heading in the direction that he had last seen Jackson.

“Stiles?” He heard her call, “Hey!...Stiles! Where are you going?”

He clenched his fists and kept walking. When he was far enough away, he called for Jackson. He prayed that he was right about seeing him, because if not...to put it frankly, he was fucked.

His phone was dead.  
He had no clue where he was.  
He was with a _werewolf_ that had _tricked_ him.  
He was drunk.  
He was alone.

He called for him again. There was nothing. Stiles was about to start walking back into town in defeat when he felt a body beside him. Already high on adrenaline, he jumped, his mind already formulating a plan on how to get away them. He turned with a hand raised, swinging at the person, coming fist to face with the hulking figure beside him.

“Jesus Stilinski!” Jackson cried, stumbling back a few feet, “What the fuck?”

“Shit, sorry. Sorry!”

After another few moments of sputtered insults and quick apologies, Jackson turned to him, eyebrows furrowed and mouth twisted.

“ _What_?”

Suddenly remembering the predicament he was in, Stiles straightened his shoulder and looked Jackson in the eyes.

“Take me to Derek.”  
  
He sighed, “Stiles,” and he already knew what was coming.

The “I don’t think that’s a good idea”, the “You’re supposed to be staying away from us”, the “It’s for your own good”. And _God_ , he didn’t have _time_ for this.

“Jackson,” he said again, voice low, level and as serious as he could make it, “Take me. To Derek.”

Another moment.  
Another sigh.  
An eyeroll.  
A nod.

He started walking towards the front of the house, presumably to where he had parked his car. Stiles followed without another word.

Once they were both situated in the porsche, Jackson reached in the backseat to grab a purple and yellow hoodie, in which he shoved into Stiles’ chest. He looked down at it to read the letters across the front: ‘UAlbany’.

Jackson had wanted to go D1 for Lacrosse and was willing to go as far away as New York to achieve that. But after...well, everything, he decided it best to stay near his home, near his pack. The thought brought a small smile to Stiles’ lips, despite everything. If someone had told him that one day Jackson Whittemore--the same kid that used to make him cry on the playground--would be one of his most trusted friends, he, again, would have cried...and not from laughter, but from fear.

“Put it on,” he grumbled, “You reek of that guy. And if it’s making _me_ want to scent you then Hale probably will.”

The thought of himself smelling like another pack...smelling like  _James_ made him sick, “...thanks.”

He slid the sweatshirt over his head and let it slide down the rest of him. He was practically swimming in it, but he relished smell of his packmate. They sat in silence for a moment, the events of the night a continuous loop in Stiles’ head.  
A small grunt pulled him from his thoughts, his eyes flickered over to Jackson who’s hands were tightly gripping the steering wheel, his jaw tightly clenched.

“What?”  
  
“He...he didn’t hurt you. Did he?”

“No,” his voice sounded small, even to his own ears, “he didn’t hurt me.”

“Stiles--”  
  
“I’m alright, Jackson. Just...get me to Derek.”

He paused.  
He nodded.  
He stepped on the gas.

The noise of the accelerator and the porsche's muted engine, the only sounds for the rest of the ride.

 

They pulled up to the apartment a half an hour later.

Derek yanked open the door before either of them had time to reach for it.  
He was barefoot and dressed in only grey sweatpants. His dark hair was muffled from laying on it and his eyes were still heavy with sleep. He looked so warm and cozy that all Stiles wanted to do was fall into his chest and go back to bed with him.

The sight of _them_ though, two of his betas at his doorstep at 4 in the morning, one looking angry, the other looking dejected, was enough to have the Alpha straighten in anticipation.  
  
_“What?”_

“There’s another pack."

Derek exchanged shocked looks with Jackson before stepping aside and letting them in. Derek shut the door behind them and turned suspiciously towards Stiles who had sunken down on to the couch.  
Was he playing guessing games or did he _know_? The two of them smelt of alcohol, so had Stiles made Jackson bring him all the way here at this hour to drunkenly _interrogate_ him? To inject himself back into the pack?  
...Only Jackson looked just as confused.

Cautiously, he moved on, “What do you mean?”  
  
“There’s another pack. They...they...”  
  
Then, a sinking feeling.  
Derek _knew_.  
He knew this wasn’t just questions.  
_Stiles_ knew.  
  
And if Stiles knew, that means they had been near him, close enough for Stiles to see them. Close enough to _hurt_ him.

His fists clenched, “Did you see them?”

Stiles looked at him for a moment before throwing his gaze to the ground and nodding, “...one of them.”

“Who, Stiles? Who was it?”

He looked to the ground again as if nervous. A funny feeling settled in Derek’s gut. One he couldn’t place.

He kept his voice level, but asked again, “Who was it?”

“James.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mm mm. Love me some Jackson and Stiles scenes. Honestly, like I LOVE them together. Nice!Jackson that's still Asshole!Jackson is like my thing, okay? And that just equals Protective!Jackson and well...then you get trash like me.
> 
> I hope you didn't hate it.  
> Pretty Please Comment. Feedback is my life.
> 
> And....I'm almost done writing all of it out, so if you have any ideas that you want to share for the fic, let me know as soon as possible so I can add them in! This is also a way for me to get some comments (bc like I've been saying, they're my life), I won't front.
> 
> Lots of Love & Lots of Sterek  
> See you tomorrow xoxo


	10. Royals vs Indians

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is taken care of by our favorite Sourwolf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aye, so when I said tomorrow, I lied. But not that much.  
> I don't have a lot to say here except that I'm sorry that I hyped everything up for /this/.
> 
> That being said, I don't hate this work as much as I think you guys all think I do. It's like...a little sibling. You fucking hate it but like, it's yours so what are you going to do? Okay, so may not like a sibling, but just like a fanfiction....yeah.
> 
> I wanted to thank everyone again for their comments. It's the most I've ever gotten on a work before and that's all thanks to you guys. Yay! And I LOVE LOVE LOVE the love Stackson was getting!!! We'll see more of their dynamic in the next chapter!!
> 
> I hope you guys like this one. And please, throw me a line and drop some feedback in the comments section. Is this going to fast? Too slow? Too bad? Let me know, loves.
> 
> Thanks, as always, for coming back for me.  
> Lots of Love & Lots of Sterek x

Derek felt his eyes bleed red. Seeing Jackson’s glowing blue ones only furthered his anger.

He looked at Stiles, head in his hands, smelling miserable and his mind snapped to orders he barely consented to.

“Jackson,” he barked, making both boys look up at him, “Go home.”  
  
“But--” Derek could hear the word being hissed over his fangs and leveled him with a look.

“Go. _Home_.”

Without another word he strode to the door and slammed it upon his exit. Derek didn’t know was to do. He had...Stiles had been with them all this time. Right under their noses. They could have hurt him. The very threat that they had been working so hard on keeping away with Stiles had been closer to Stiles than they had been. His fingers itched at the potential danger that Stiles had been in. Before anything else, he grabbed his phone and headed to his bedroom to put on a tank top.

“Sheriff?”

“Derek? What’s wrong?”

“Stiles--”  
  
“What happened? Is he okay?”  
  
“He’s okay. Just...get to the apartment.”

Without another word John hung up and Derek knew he’d be there soon.

In the meantime, he headed back towards the living room. Stiles hadn’t moved from his seat on the couch and the uncharacteristic stillness of the boy unnerved him. He dropped into a squat in front of him and put a tentative hand on his knee.

“Did he hurt you?”

“N-no.”

His eyes bled red again, “You’re lying.”  
  
“No,” he looked up now, panicked.

“Where?”  
  
“Derek, I--... _physically_ I am fine.”

And while Stiles had meant it to be reassuring, it only cut deeper. Especially with the now present scent of salted tears in the air.

“Stiles--”  
  
“He _lied_ to me, Derek.”

He held Derek’s eyes as he cryptically admitted to his hurt. But he knew Derek would understand. Derek always understood.

His theory only proved correct when the werewolf lifted himself up and planted himself next to Stiles on the couch. He felt a strong arm around his shoulders pulling him into his chest. And while the action was all too familiar, it didn’t feel like James’ had. His arm had felt reassuring. But Derek’s felt like a shield, like a promise.

He let himself be wrapped in the Alpha’s arms, a big hand rubbing up and down his side, his heavy head atop of Stiles’, his warm body ever present. Lost in Derek’s even breathing he felt himself eventually being lulled to sleep. In his drunken state, he felt himself being jostled around a while later, his response was to only cling tighter to Derek. He heard a soft “It’s alright,” in the hazy distance and then a “Go to sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.”

Lips pressed to his forehead and then it was quiet.

 

Derek busied himself in the kitchen after bringing Stiles to the bed. He knew the Sheriff was due any moment now so he put on coffee. While it brewed he let his claws come out and his teeth sink down. The freedom of the shift burnt away some of his anger, but the adrenaline was still high. His wolf itched for a run, but it itched to be near Stiles even more. He was angry. Mad. At himself. At his betas. How could they not have smelt _wolf_ ? How could they not have picked up on the fact that Stiles was with another _pack_? How could he not have? He felt a whine slip past his lips and a howl bubbling in his chest, threatening to break free when a knock on his door pulled him back. His nose let him know it was John as he slowly shifted back. He opened the door and wordlessly let the Sheriff in.

“Derek. Where’s Stiles?”

“Sleeping.”  
  
“What happened, is he okay?”

He could hear John’s heart beating fast, could see the nervous sweat beading on his forehead, smell his bitter anxiety, feel the tension in his shoulders.

“He’s okay. John, relax.”  
  
“Relax! Relax? You call me at four in the morning telling me to get here and that it has something to do with Stiles and with all--everything going on you tell me to _relax_?”

Derek was taken aback. The Sheriff never yelled. Never at his prisoners. Never at his suspects. Never at the television during a Yankees game. Never at his son.  
The man seemed to gage his own action before Derek had the time. He sighed, his tension immediately leaving his body, his anxiety dispersing into the room.

As he ran a hand through his hair, Derek studied him. It was true that the Sheriff was a calm man. Everything about him was collected, quiet and patient, which left Derek wondering how he had gotten himself a son like Stiles. Hotheaded, inquisitive, nosey, _loud._ He settled on the idea that his wife, Claudia, had been the same way. It brought a calmness to his buzzing mind, thinking about Stiles and Claudia zipping around the house, high on energy, talking and yelling while John sat by their sides silent and amused, picking up after their unintended messes, verbal or physical, being the calm to their chaos, the level head to their scattered minds. The man would have made a good werewolf.

Another sigh had Derek’s green eyes pulling up to be met with blue.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, sinking down to the couch in the same spot Stiles had occupied only moments before, “I’m sorry. It’s just...I’m worried for him.”

His eyes found Derek’s and in that moment his expression looked so much like his son’s that Derek had to pause for a moment. Instead, he only nodded.

“I know. It’s okay. We all are.”

“So...not that I don’t enjoy your company, son, but why did you need me to come here now?”

Ignoring the way his chest squeezed at the petname, he uttered, “Stiles knows.”  
  
John cocked an eyebrow.

“He knows about the pack. He...he knew who they were.”  
  
“What? How? Was he...was he keeping it a secret?”

“No, it...he just found out. Tonight.”

“Alright, well what are we waiting for? Where’s the pack?”

“It’s...a bit more complicated than that...I guess.”

“Complicated? What do you mean complicated, Hale? There’s another pack in your territory. A pack that has made threats against you. Against _Stiles_. There is no ‘complicated’. We make them leave.”

Derek sighed. How he wished it was all that easy.

“James,” he blurted gruffly.

The name tastes sour coming from his tongue. He suspected it to be that way for a while to come.

“James? What?”  
  
“It was James.”  
  
“What was James? Did he bring Stiles here? Is he here too?”  
  
“No. James. He was the werewolf...that Stiles saw.”

He saw the confusion flit across the Sheriff’s face only to be replaced with unmistakable rage. He knew the feeling. Someone had hurt their boy. Someone had snuck into their territory, their home. The very place that they had both sworn to protect with their lives. Someone had threatened their family, their peace, their life.  
  
After a long stretch of silence the Sheriff spoke again, “James? Stiles’ James?”

He flinched at the wording but nodded. John only continued.

“The James that has been _in my house_ ? The James that Stiles has spent the _night_ with? The James that’s been up my son’s ass this _whole entire month?!_ ”

Derek wish he could say different. But he couldn’t. So he said nothing.

“We...” He let out a shaky breath.

“John--”  
  
“Can I see him? I want to see him.”  
  
“I...I think we should let him sleep. He’s...had kind of a rough day.”

John only nodded, taking the mug Derek was now handing him, basking in the feel of the steam against his face, the familiar scent of coffee calming him.

“What are we going to do?”

The weight of the question was felt by Derek. This man was trusting him...the twenty six year old fuck up with a past of young dead and innocent corpses following him around like a lingering scent...to save his son. To save the only family this man had left. The person in Beacon Hills who probably had the most authority next to the Mayor, was asking _him_ what to do. He wanted to shake him. Didn’t he know it was his fault his family was dead? Didn’t he know it was his fault that half of the trouble they faced wandered into Beacon Hills? Didn’t he know that it was that it was fault that they were in this mess in the first place? He didn’t _know_ what to do. He didn’t know how to fix it. Not without violence and death and...and he didn’t want that.

For once he was being selfish. He didn’t want to be the one that held onto the guilt of killing one of Stiles’ friends, of killing another _child._ For once he was being selfish. He didn’t _want_ that. He didn’t want that reserved look Stiles wore in his eyes when he faced an enemy directed at him. He didn’t want Stiles to be weary of him the same way he had been when he’d killed Peter. For once he was being selfish. He didn’t want Stiles to hold that against him. He didn’t want Stiles to hate him. He didn’t want Stiles’ trust in him to falter. He couldn’t _handle_ Stiles’ trust in him faltering. For once he was being selfish. And if he had learned anything by becoming Alpha it was that he couldn’t _be_ selfish. He had a pack to take care of. He had a job to do and it started with protecting what was his. And even before that, protecting Stiles. He didn’t _want_ to handle this violently, but if there was no choice, he would. He would kill every last one of them if he had to. But right now...

“I don’t know.”

The Sheriff nodded as if he had been expecting this answer. Derek sighed and looked longingly at the door. What he wouldn’t give to curl up in his bed next to Stiles and pretend like this all wasn’t happening. A while later he took the liberty of turning on the television and flipping through the channels until he came to stop on the Royals/Indian game. Baseball. It was good, familiar, a commonality. He caught the Sheriff’s grateful smile and without further discussion, they both drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

 

The next morning Derek woke to a knock on the door. He stirred awake in alarm, instinctively turning to where John should have been, but wasn’t. To his surprise, he was the source of the pounding at the door.

“I figured I’d make us some breakfast.”

Derek only raised his eyebrow at the bags and boxes from the local diner in the man’s hand.

“From Ruby’s?”

“...what Stiles doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Derek snorted at the very fine irony of that entire statement as he stepped aside to let the other in. Derek brewed the now cold coffee while the Sheriff plated everything. Eventually the two got into a conversation about Isaac and a few others in the pack, talking about school and college, etc. Avoiding the problem at hand at all costs. And Derek was okay with that. After a while, Stiles peered out from the still darkened room, hair mussed from sleep, the too big pajama pants he must have stolen from Derek’s pile of clean laundry and a white t shirt made him look so young and soft.

“Dad?”

In a second, the man was out of his seat and wrapping his arms around his son.

“Are you okay?”

Stiles didn’t answer, but Derek saw his tightening grip on his father’s uniform and knew that he wasn’t. And Hell if Derek didn’t know what it felt like to be used.

The werewolf eventually got the two men to sit down at his very small table and eat. There was a few moments of quiet with only the occasional scrape of a fork or knife on a plate--a nice quiet, not awkward or loaded, comfortable quiet--before Stiles pointed his fork at his father, a piece of scrambled egg still hanging haphazardly off of it.

“I know this is from Ruby’s. You can’t pull a fast one like that on me, old man.”

Derek smiled on at them, the Sheriff squawking indignantly, Stiles fixing him with a half hearted look of disappointment. In the back of his mind, he thinks to himself, he can get used to this.

 

At noon, the Sheriff had to leave for work. They had done a decently good job at avoiding the elephant in the room up until then until John wavered a bit about calling in.

“I think Derek can explain everything by himself,” Stiles reassured, obviously he had been awaiting and expecting an explanation. And Derek didn’t blame him.

He only confirmed this and told John he would call him during his lunch.

“Oh my God, you guys are  _dating_.”

They both turned towards him with looks of confused disgust on their faces. John recovered quicker than Derek, obviously more used to his son’s strange ‘mind jumps’ as Lydia had once phrased it.

“Well, the parents always have to keep in touch with the babysitter.”

“Derek is _not_ my babysitter.”  
  
“Damn right he’s not,” was John’s ever elusive response.

He gave his son a hug and kiss before exchanging meaningful looks with Derek and then he was gone.

“Since when did you start dating my Dad?”  
  
“Shut up Stiles.”

 

After another hour of good natured bickering, that Derek would never admit to missing, he got Stiles to calm down enough to focus. The easy flow of the room was now gone, replaced with something more serious in nature. Stiles leaned on his elbows against the small kitchen island while Derek leaned himself up against the counter.

“How did you find out about James?”

“We um...at the party.”  
  
“What happened? Was he angry at you?”

“N-no. I don’t think so.”  
  
“Then...”  
  
“We were kissing and then--”

He was cut off by red eyes and a growl.

“It was consensual. At the time. It was consensual. He didn’t like... _force me_ or anything.”  
  
“Good,” it was a low growl, almost not even a word at all.

“And...um, yeah. I...I opened my eyes and they were...they were glowing.”

Derek shifted his eyes, “And that was it? He didn’t try to attack you? Or follow you?”  
  
“N-no. I left. I went to Jackson. He...he didn’t seem like he wanted to hurt me Derek. I’m confused.”

“I know. We are too. None of this makes any sense.”

There was a silence and Derek let out a heavy sigh, taking in the boy in front of him.

“Okay. Okay. Let’s...let’s start at the beginning. How did you two meet?”  
  
“Um...well, when you kicked me out of the pack--”  
  
“We didn’t kick you out of the pack!”  
  
“You did too!”

“Stiles. We talked about it. The decision was on you as much as it was on us.”  
  
“Yeah and when I tried to take that decision _back_ you told me it was no longer my decision to make and then you _kicked me out_.”

“That was after--”  
  
“After what? After you decided that you and your little pack was better off without me? That it was all better without the human distraction in your way? And on _that note_ ...how come no one could tell he was a wolf? Don’t you guys have a specific scent. Scott could smell Isaac that one time before everything...” Derek stood in shock as he watched Stiles turn to retreat into the living room, plopping himself down on the couch as he did last night. His head in his hands, a position of his that Derek had come to know as defeat. The kid was an idiot. What the hell was he even saying? Stiles was an essential part of the pack. He knew that. He _had_ to know that. Without Stiles, there would be no pack. He was their confidant, their guiding hand whether he meant to be or not. He was their brains and their calm. He was the pack’s anchor. He had to be blind...or dumb _not_ to know that. And, usually, Derek wouldn’t put it past the boy to get in his own way. But these words...they were spit with so much truth. Like he _believed_ them. His anger flooded the air and his heart, albeit thudding with his fury, stayed steady. He believed it. Derek was just about to interject when the anger in the air took a sharp turn. Now...now it was distressed? Sad. Hurt. Betrayed. And...fear? There was fear. Why was Stiles scared? Why was he frightened? Derek was right there. He would protect him.  
And then he spoke, “Unless...oh God,” he choked on a half sob, “unless you knew. You knew it was them?”

All the emotions in the air, the false truths, the distress of his packmate, the _fear_. Everything at once and Derek snapped.

“No! No, Stiles! Goddamnit, no!” He took a breath, his voice cracking on the next words, “Of _course_ not. How...how could you even _think_ that?”

His voice ended low, tender. And with the look Stiles was giving him, he could tell that he had expressed the hurt he was feeling perfectly.

Stiles’ voice was now low, too, “Then...then how do you explain--”

Derek sighed again, readying himself to fill Stiles in on everything.

“We knew...we knew there was a pack in Beacon Hills. That they had been here for a while. But we didn’t know who they were or what they wanted. They never announced themselves and a pack that doesn’t announce themselves is always bad news,” he chanced a look up at Stiles to see him listening intently like there would be a test on it later. He repeated himself, “We didn’t know what they wanted.”

“...so then--”

“Until,” Derek interrupted the interruption, “they left a note.”

“A note,” Stiles repeated, unimpressed.

Derek was suddenly overcome with the memory of how much he and the others had missed Stiles through everything.  
He missed how he would have rolled his eyes at the mysterious ‘note’ left on Derek’s windshield. “How cliche,” he would have said. He missed how he would have probably made a reference to a car part instead of himself. “It’s probably just a friendly neighbor concerned about your spark plugs in this pollution producing machine of yours.” Or how he would have bent over a book trying to figure something out, all while pretending the issue at hand wasn’t worth his attention (this alone would keep the rest of the pack calm), the same issue that was keeping him up all night overdosing on his adderall. He missed the small touches as Stiles would move around him in the small kitchenette of the Loft, making himself and Liam something to eat in the late hours. He missed the bickering, the small bit off comments and exchanges of glances that only he and the boy could understand.  
The last month had been torture. Stiles was there. So close but just out of reach.  
The pack had become increasingly dreadful and sour. There was no comedic relief or reassuring words when they all got in their own heads. There was no human around that would let them crawl into their beds or to curl up on the old couches with them. There was no _Stiles_. It was like missing a limb. Derek sure felt it and he could see how the others had felt it too. Jackson had seemed to backtrack, nearly tearing everyone’s head off if they came within a three foot radius of him. Malia had been in her coyote form a lot more often, plainly saying that pack meetings were boring without Stiles to tease. Isaac had become quieter. Scott had become tense. Liam was agitated and fidgety. Lydia rolled her eyes every time someone asked a question about a topic that only she or Stiles would understand. Boyd became needy and touchy. Erica was a nightmare, snippy and sarcastic. And Derek...Derek had just been all out miserable. He would drive my the boy’s house nightly, constantly text the Sheriff for updates, snapped at his Betas, growled at people.  
But it had been _working_. Stiles had been _safe_. Or so they had thought. And now...not it was all in vain.

“Yeah,” Derek confirmed, pushing his rapid thoughts away, “It told us...it just said to watch our spark.”  
  
“But...I don’t even know how to _use_ it.”

“It doesn’t matter. You have one. And after radio silence for all that time they had been in Beacon Hills, that was their move.”

“Then I don’t understand why you kept me away, Derek. There was obvious danger. A direct threat to _me_ and you didn’t even try to protect me. Or even _warn_ me?”

“Stiles, we would have protected you at all costs. And we still will. We...we _always_ will. Just...just because you couldn’t see us, doesn’t mean we weren’t there.”

There was a fondness in Stiles’ gaze, a thankful look. Until it was replaced by abject horror.  
And boy, did Derek _know_. They had some great stories about Stiles now. Jackson had texted the group message, now so dry without Stiles’ random emojis or memes sent out at all hours, late one night,  **hes singing taylor swift in the shower i srsly hate you all**. And then Boyd had been subjected to Stiles’ binge with RuPaul’s Drag Race, **Yara Sofia** **is fucking the worst**. Derek had been on the unfortunate shift in which Stiles had decided to um...pleasure himself. But no one else knew about _that._  For obvious reasons.  
He cleared his throat.

“We kept you out because...because they didn’t know you or who you were. It made sense. After all this time in the dark and they hadn’t tried to get to you once. It was the only explanation. Or, that’s what we thought. Now, I don’t know what to think.”

There was a heavy silence.

“It does makes sense,” the boy uttered. And leave it to Stiles to solve a puzzle in under thirty seconds that had left the pack in shambles for weeks, “instead of attacking, they took another approach, one that wouldn’t be suspicious. It...everything makes sense. They only wanted me because of my spark. I get it now.”

At that, Derek felt Stiles’ misery shoot straight through him. The boy seriously underestimated himself, his _worth_ , and it broke Derek to see. If only he could see himself through Derek’s eyes. If only he could see how loved and special he actually was. He just wanted to make it _better_.

 _‘I can’t always tell what you’re thinking, you know. I’m not a mind reader. No one’s a_ **_mind reader_ ** _, Derek.’_ He could hear Laura’s voice in his head...and opened his mouth to speak, “Stiles you’re so much more than that. And they saw that.”

The boy snorted humorlessly, “Yeah, I’m sure they wanted me for my _spectacular_ research skills or my impeccable sense of humor.”

His scent was turning bitter and Derek could feel a part of himself wilting with it. Without his own consent, he reached out to place a steady hand on Stiles’ knee.

“Stiles,” his voice held warning. He watched amber eyes fall to the Alpha’s hand wearily, “You _have_ to know that. You are _so_ much more than that.”

The _‘to me’_ was unspoken but it held firmly in the air between them, closing a bit of their metaphorical distance, serving as an understandment, a solution. Stiles finally looked up to meet Derek’s eyes. They held so much meaning, so many _things._  Tt was overwhelming. A nebula of unsaid word, a galaxy of unexplained thoughts, a world of emotions unexamined and pure.

He swallowed, “I know.”

 

 

Derek kept Stiles locked in his apartment all weekend. Despite what the werewolf claimed, he was being held hostage... _objectively_.

They curled up on the couch, binge watching Netflix series and eating microwave popcorn that Stiles had stashed in Derek’s lazy susan _months_ ago. Fortunately, after their trade of emotional standing and Derek’s half-assed explanation of what else had been going on while Stiles was “on leave” (Derek made him stop calling it “Pack Isolation” with fangs and glowing eyes), there was an unsaid and standing rule of no pack speak until Monday when the real world would reign in on their small illusion of rainbows and happiness.

Stiles’ phone was still dead, leaving him 100% cut off from the outside world, which again, he was _not_ complaining about, allowing he and Derek to get through half of the first season of _Grace & Frankie _ . Derek, unsurprisingly was a fan of Grace--”But she’s so _anal_ , Derek.” “You would be too if you husband of forever left you for another man.”--while Stiles deemed Frankie his spirit animal--”You’ve got to be kidding me. She has no...structure.” “Oh my God. You’re an old man.” Which led into a discussion about what a spirit animal was and a fight about why Derek was _totally_ a bunny because, ahem, bunny teeth? Which, _of course_ , lead to Derek shifting and snapping at Stiles' fingers, asking him if _these_ teeth were still "bunny teeth”.

They made chicken parm for dinner, because they were lazy and it was easy to make and then they retired back to the couch and shared a blanket while they watched the two divorced wives try to figure out their new roles.

And while the two women tried their way through the maze of society on the screen, Stiles’ mind was trying its way through their own thoughts. After everything...he had felt used and dirty. He was lied to by someone he had trusted and had liked and that he had thought liked him too. It hurt, finding out that you were being favored because of something else they wanted. He felt like the teacher people sucked up to, not because they liked them, but because they wanted something from them. He knew he was being a little bit too dramatic, he supposed. But, he was embarrassed and...heartbroken  
And while it had been nowhere near as serious or as big a deal, if anyone knew how if felt to be a pawn to achieve something greater, it was Derek. If anyone knew how it felt to be _used_ , it was Derek. And God, if this is what _this_ felt like, he couldn’t imagine how Derek felt. Everyday. He couldn’t fathom the hurt or the pain or the guilt. And as minute as James’ betrayal had been compared to Kate’s, he understood Derek a little better now.  
He understood why he had been so reluctant to trust Scott and his allegiance to Allison, why he had turned over every rock and looked in every corner before relaxing even the slightest bit, why he hadn’t wanted anything to do with any of them, with _Stiles_. Why he had such a hard time with the idea of pack and trusting each other and sharing information and being safe. And Stiles was...suddenly he was determined to let Derek know how much they loved Derek for Derek and for absolutely nothing else.

It was hard to concentrate on his self pity, however, when Derek was doing this exact thing to him. He was being _coddled_ . It was nice and calming, almost like coming home, being curled up next to the warm furnace of a werewolf. Except...well except the whole _Derek_ part of it.

When Stiles had dug out an old charger of his from God knows where, Derek had confiscated it _and_ his phone, despite his cries of mercy. He kept making him tea and giving him blankets and kept checking to see if he was “okay”. And he kept _scent marking_ him. _Everywhere.  
_ He’d rub his hand across his back, nuzzle into his neck, burry Stiles under his arms. And while it was strange, it was nice. They slept in the same bed to find themselves tangled up in each other the next morning. And while Stiles would have imagined this proximity being awkward, it was _good_.

The next day though, Sunday, Stiles had tried to run home for a change of clothes only to be blocked by a still half slumbering Alpha werewolf, who wasn’t even forming full sentences yet.

“Here. Stay,” he grunted, falling into Stiles’ frame, resting a forehead on his shoulder as if daring him to move.

“What is this, some sort of lock in? At least let me go take a shower. I _have_ to smell by now. ”  
  
“Smell like me. Yes.”

“Derek,” he whined.

After a few moments Derek seemed to wake himself up and come back to reality. He stayed where he was, partially collapsed on Stiles though.

“It’s not a lock in Stiles. I need you keep you by me incase anything happens.”  
  
“Uh, you could come with?”  
  
“No.”

He threw his hands up and pushed the other man away before growling and heading to Isaac’s room to find another too big, clean pair of sweats. When he came out, Derek was cooking breakfast and all was forgiven.

Until Boyd and Isaac tried to come in. Derek only growled at them and shut the door in their face.

“You barbarian. What the _hell_?”

“I don’t want to see anyone.”  
  
“Yeah, well that’s not...oh my God. You don’t just _do_ that. Isaac _lives_ here.”

“He can stay with your Dad,” he said absently as he rolled Stiles closer to him, restarting the episode.

And that was it, Derek’s one (of many) flaw(s). When he was interrupted during a show he had never seen, he’d restart the entire goddamned episode. Even _if_ they were ten minutes until the end. It drove Stiles crazy. He only huffed and slumped against Derek’s side, letting the older man rub his cheek against the top of his head.

His Dad stopped by after work. It was a quick visit, five minutes at the most, thanks to Derek’s very unsubtle signs of agitation.

“Yeah Dad. I’m doing okay, much better than before. Derek and I talked and the two of us are squared away. Only, he’s doing one of his weird wolf things where he won’t let anyone in his apartment right now. I think it’s called nesting,” he ignored Derek’s low warning growl, “so, in case you don’t want to be collateral damage in Derek’s very tremendous quest from him to _himself_ , I suggest you leave and I’ll call you tomorrow before school.”

Steamrolled by his son and in quite a daze the Sheriff nodded and gave him a hug goodbye. He then threw Derek a smile and clasped him on the back,

“I’ll see you later, son. Bye Stiles.”

As soon as he heard the cruiser start up, Stiles was being pulled back into Derek’s chest, curving under the other man’s form, Derek’s warm front pressed against Stiles’ lean back, undoubtedly covering up whatever scent his own _father_ had left on him.

“It’s been so long, you barely smell like pack anymore,” Derek finally explained, sensing Stiles’ annoyance, “My wolf’s getting...angry. You smell like them, not like us.”

“ _Someone_ kicked me out of the pack.”

Derek grumbled in his ear, letting his face drop into the crook of Stiles’ neck, causing him to gasp in surprise. Derek nosed along his jawline in response.

“Come on, let’s get to bed. You have school in the morning.”

Stiles groaned and let himself be dragged into the darkened bedroom. Sleep did sound nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So....some Sterek. Some confusing, unexplained Sterek. I KNOW. It's OOC but I feel like somewhere in there (in at least one alternate reality) his would happen.
> 
> Also, I REALLY REALLY recommend Grace & Frankie (it's on Netflix). It's hilarious and so so good. And please, for your sake and mine, just imagine Derek and Stiles watching it. Please. You're Welcome.
> 
> PREVIEW (ish)  
> ...Monday is school and school means James and James, as we can assume, from what we know presently, means bad news. Then there's Scott & Stiles' whole thing that needs to be worked out. Obviously. How will the pack dynamic change, now that Stiles is technically back in it? Is he safer or in more danger? And what about all that Sterek?
> 
> I know, I know. I hype this way too far up for what it is. But I haven't scared you all away yet, so...something's working.
> 
> Let me know what you think? Pretty please?  
> Love, as always x


	11. Blue Jays vs Orioles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minor Stydia Scene? Check.  
> Major Sterek Scene? Check.  
> Emotional Angst?  
> Lots of tears?  
> An unbeta'd mess?  
> Check, check & check.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> Sorry it’s been forever. There’s just been a lot going on right now. I won’t bore you with the details but I’ll share an overview just bc I like to complain. 
> 
> One of my professors has sucked all the enjoyment out of writing for me. He went to Harvard so he’s an entitled little shit and can’t see the difference between a style of writing and grammatical correctness. For example, he told me I could never use rhetorical questions in writing (Like seriously? Fuck off.) If you went to Harvard, you should know. And he’s not even an English/LIT teacher. So....?
> 
> Next, as I promised, I read WAY into the comments left. I appreciate every single one and would love to honor them all. And a reason that this took so long to put out was because it’s taken me this long to realize that there is no possible way to please every single one of you and I hope that you don’t hate me for it. But you don’t have to continue reading if you hate the way the story is going. And as bitchy as it sounds, it’s my story and I have my own ideas. I would love to be able to give you all your own fantasies but in one piece of writing? I can’t. It’s impossible and I should know because I’ve tried. That being said, I do take requests and love working with people on stories (there is where you can tell me what to write).
> 
> Also, all of your hate for my baby Derek is breaking me! Haha.
> 
> Sooo.....there’s a few time jumps in this one, but it shouldn’t be too hard to decipher, if it is just let me know and I’ll fix it up the best I can. This chapter is a little fast paced, but the ball’s really getting rolling now. And if you think you’ve seen the climax of this story already, you’ve got another thing coming!  
> Now, I hope your waiting wasn’t in vain & that I don’t disappoint.  
> Here's a suuuuper long chapter (TWO PARTS) as an apology for my disappearance ;*
> 
> Lots of Love & Lots of Sterek  
> Midnight x

~~PART I~~

 

Monday morning came and he stumbled out to see the entire pack crammed into Derek’s small living room. He blinked owlishly at them before turning around and slamming the door to Derek’s bedroom. The wolf groaned and rolled over in the sheets, staring up at Stiles expectantly.

“What?”

He shrugged, “I’m kind of mad at them.”  
  
He heard a whine from behind the door and ignored it in favor of watching Derek roll into a sitting position.

“I know but I need you to put that aside for a minute.”  
  
He scoffed, “Oh, right. Because I’m not allowed to be mad because you did it to ‘protect me’ or whatever. Well, newsflash, you guys can’t just stomp all over me and make me feel like shit and then when there’s a threat in town and you need my cooperation all is well again.”

“I thought I explained this--”

Stiles huffed, “All you told me was what was happening with the other pack. You didn’t exactly explain anything else. I let us have the weekend because we needed it. Both of us. But after everything, I really hope you don’t expect me to drop everything and forgive everybody for treating me like I didn’t even exist for the past week and a half.”

Derek stood and made his way in front of him.

He suddenly looked aged. He looked like...like someone who’s family burned alive and someone who shoulders that guilt. He looked like someone who’s sister was murdered not too long afterwards, like someone who had to kill their own uncle in cold blood and then pick up the broken pieces afterwards. He looked like _that_ someone. Not the someone Stiles had come to know. Not the someone who wore jeans and leather and drove a muscle car even though he was a big softie and liked caramel frappuccinos and F. Scott Fitzgerald. Not the someone who liked to yell at the television and growl playfully at bad jokes and make empty threats. Not the someone who he had fallen asleep tangled up in last night. He looked like someone else. And it pained Stiles to know that he had been the one to make Derek look like that. He _never_ wanted Derek to look like that....So, Stiles paused to hear what he had to say. What he wasn’t expecting was the cover all answer that was:

“They’re your pack.”

“But--”

“ _Stiles._..” The stress in Derek’s voice made him stop, “You need to trust them to protect you right now. We can deal with all the other issues later. But right now--”

“Are you _serious_ ? Trust them? After everything? You expect me to _trust_ them? After they lied to me? And ignored me?”

“They... _We_ lied to protect you. If you want to be mad at anybody, be mad at me. They were just following orders.”

“So Scott belittling me and calling me selfish was an _order_?”

He was suddenly reminded that the entire pack was outside listening in. But at this point, really, did he even care? Did it even matter?

“That’s different. That’s Scott. The...the...things that were said...”

“The _lies_ , Derek. You can say it,” Stiles snarked, mocking voice clear in the early morning.

He growled, “They were to protect you. You saw the struggle everyone had with staying away. So I don’t know--”

“No. I actually _didn’t_. You seemed to all be getting along just fine without me.”

Derek paused, “We had this conversation, Stiles. You’re _more_ . I thought I told you--”  
  
“Yeah...well that conversation wasn’t enough. Not enough for me to go back to how things used to be--all great and fine after everything. How am I supposed to trust everyone when...”

_“They’re your pack.”_

The weight of the words settled in the air and Stiles was just about to launch into another argument when Derek spoke again.

“They’re your _pack_. They’re your blood. Your family. The people who will be there for you when you’re twenty seven or seventy two. Stiles, pack is forever. You know this. At least try to trust us to do right by you.”

“Right by me,” he scoffs, “like you all did “right by me” when--”

“You trust Jackson, right? You went to him to protect you on Friday.”  
  
“I--”

“You trust me.”

“Derek you know I do.”

“Even after everything.”  
  
“What do you mean?”

“Even after I lied to you and Scott about the killing Peter to get you and Scott to help me and about the Argents to make you fight them.”

“Derek, there’s more to that and you know it,” he accused.

“No, there’s really not, Stiles. We’ve all had secrets, we’ve all lied to each other and sometimes it worked and other times it blew up in our faces, but we’re all still here. We’re all alive. And no matter how broken we seem to be, we all still come back to each other. Because we’re _pack_ . I know it’s going to take some time for you to forgive us and that it’s going to be like walking on eggshells for a while, and we can sit down and talk everything out _later_. But right now it’s crunch time. We’ve been here before. You need to trust us, Stiles. Trust your pack.”

There was a heavy silence, Derek took that as a signal to peel off the shirt he had fallen asleep in and hand it to Stiles. The two stood there. Stiles glaring while Derek wore a hesitant look of hope. After another few moments of quiet, the boy reached out and snatched the fabric. He slid out of his own shirt and into Derek’s. The wolf smiled gently at the sight of Stiles in his clothes. The scent was pure _them_ and it made Derek’s wolf preen.

“Like I said, we can talk it all out later, but for now, let them be there for you.”

With a huff, he slung his bag over his shoulder, “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

 

He rode to school with Jackson, refusing to talk to any else at the time. Partially due to his anger towards them and partially because he didn’t want to say something he’d regret later on. Jackson kept shooting him looked over the Toronto/Orioles game filling the silence of the car that he couldn’t quite decipher. After the fifth or sixth glance, Stiles snapped, pent up on tension and high voltage energy.

“What?”  
  
“Nothing I...”

“ _What?_ ”

“It’s just...I’m sorry we made you feel that way.”  
  
An apology from Jackson Whittemore--no matter the ‘progress’ he’s made over the past few years--was enough of a shock to keep him quiet for the rest of the ride.

 

At school, Boyd met him at his locker opposed to the classroom and when Stile gave him a tired look, Boyd reciprocated.

“Derek doesn’t want them anywhere near you.”  
  
“I don’t want _you_ anywhere near me either.”

Boyd ignored the comment and responded with, “We’re not sure what they’ll do.”

“Well,” Stiles pointed out, shutting his locker, “they haven’t done anything yet.”

And to that, all Boyd did was blink.

 

The day was tame. It was filled with a lot of conflicting emotions, but nonetheless tame. Jackson and Boyd were the only ones Stiles could decently suck up being around, so they flanked him for most of the day. The pack, he noticed, however, lingered on the peripherals of his vision, watching him intently where before they’d look away, smiling at him where they had previously scowled.

 

In calculus Lydia slid into the seat next to him with a tentative smile. He ignored her in favor of looking out the window. He took the opportunity to think as Mr. Hipple drowned on and on about derivatives and...something else. The events of the past few weeks whipped around in his head over and over again. He finally hit pause on one of the many days he spent sulking in his bed room after school because of his “pack”.  


 

_“Packs are stronger when they’re together. For a human, the best way to put it in context is to compare it to a family. It’s a mobile home.”_

_“Home is where the heart is.”_  
  
_“Basically. For wolves being near their pack calms and resonates with them. So, instinctually they will strive to protect that environment and those who make up what it is. As a human, you’ll probably be subjected to the feeling of home and safety around them. But as a spark, one you learn how to master it, the instinctual feeling to protect may surface as well. But either way, packs bring safety and love to their members and that alone allows wolves to be more confident and proactive. Which is most likely why you saw that change in Isaac, Erica and Boyd. They had a base underneath them. They knew that they were wanted and no longer had to worry about being accepted by the general masses, because they already had a place. And this is why wolves are stronger as a pack.”_  


 

He remembered his talk with Deaton about Packs and “Pack Politics” as the man had called it, like it was yesterday. It had been about a year now since Derek had offered to incorporate the two packs together into one and about a year since Stiles had delved into the life of pack dynamics and histories. Too bad there wasn’t a “Werewolf Pack Dynamic Specialist” Major at Stanford. 

But looking back at the past weeks, he hadn’t felt anything that had been promised. He had, to an extent, felt _un_ loved and _un_ safe. It wasn’t even as if these supposed feelings of pack were lacking, it was as if they had been taken away to the extreme and that the negative was being enforced. Lydia, Scott, Allison and Jackson walking down the hall together, head held high, ignoring Stiles all together made him feel ugly. Erica, Isaac and Boyd skipping out on their lunch period that they would have otherwise shared made him feel hated. Liam and Mason asking Kira and Isaac for help on their homework instead made him feel unvalued. And if they all were able to do these things and go through with these actions...wasn’t there a kernel of truth to it all then?

He couldn’t get the sight of the pack in the Loft out of his head either. They had all looked laidback and content. They looked... _good_ without him there. The atmosphere was calm where in Stiles’ usual presence it was exasperated. Derek looked _fine_ where when Stiles was there, he seemed irritated. Both sides of the pack were together in the same room being civil, something that wasn’t possible until they had allegedly “kicked Stiles out of the pack”. They had been making it clear that they didn’t need Stiles around. That the weakest link was removed and that it was okay. But then there was Derek. The Alpha of the whole pack who had looked him dead in the eye and claimed that he was ‘more’.

And while Stiles wanted to believe him, he couldn’t. No. Because Derek’s whole M.O. was to protect Beacon Hills and the people in it. And Stiles couldn’t be sure that Derek didn’t actually feel like Stiles was a burden and was just telling him that he was “more” honestly, or if it was just a way to get him to let his guard down and to allow the pack to protect him. Because even if he wasn’t apart of the Hale Pack, Derek would still have felt the responsibility to keep him away from the new pack...no keep him away from _James_ because he was in his territory. He didn’t trust that this whole thing wasn’t just another stunt to “protect him”. He was sick of being lied to and used and lately that’s all that’s been happening to him. He just wanted it to end.

“Stiles.”

He jumped at the voice and let his gaze sweep around the now empty room. The only other person who inhabited it was Lydia. She was looking at him wearily.

“Talk to me,” she requested.

“Lydia, I--”  
  
“Stiles. I know you’re upset--”  
  
He snorted as he stood, gathering his books and sliding them into his opened bookbag and heading outside towards the quad,  “Understatement.”

“I _know_ you’re upset. But the only way to get anywhere with this is if you _talk to me_ ,” she hurried her pace so that she was standing in front of him and reached out to place a hand on his arm, “Stiles, please.”  
  
“What do you want me to say Lydia? That I’m pissed off that the entire pack’s been ignoring me for the better part of a month? Or that _you_ , especially, after knowing what you know about Theo and the Nogitsune and how I felt after all of that, left me out to dry. I knew nothing that was going on except that no one cared about me. And I finally thought that they...that they had all given up on me and decided that I wasn’t worth the trouble anymore,” tears were running freely down his face as he bit out the words, “That I wasn’t worth the...that you all finally decided that keeping the murderer-human that was weak enough to be possessed and manipulated into killing hundreds wasn’t necessary and you were finally getting,” he hiccuped on a sob, “getting rid of me. And that my best friend and you and Derek and my own,” another hiccup, ”my own father was in on it. And you _knew_ how I felt. You knew the anticipation I’ve had about...this exact thing happening and you still...you still didn’t say anything to me. You just let me believe it. All of it. Is _that_ what you wanted me to say?”

“YES,” she shouted. She was crying now too, black eyeliner was running down her cheeks and red rimmed her green eyes, “Yes. Damn it, Stiles. That’s exactly what I wanted you to say.”

Before either of them could get another word out Lydia was wrapping her arms around Stiles’ neck and pulling him down into a hug. He let her hold him as he composed himself against her shoulder. And it was a testament to everything that she didn’t once complain about him getting tears on her Ralph Lauren top. Neither of them knew that Erica, Liam and Isaac had been listening in from the Chemistry room and were exchanging defeated, guilty looks or that Derek himself had heard the confession as he was pulling into the school to meet with the school counselor about Isaac’s attendance.

Once Stiles pulled away and swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, Lydia sat him down at the nearest table.

“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry, Stiles.”  
  
“I...I know you are.”  
  
“I just...we thought--”  
  
“You thought it was all for the best. I get it.”

“We were wrong though, weren’t we?”

Stiles nodded, “Yeah,” he agreed, his voice low and and raspy, “Yeah, you were wrong.”

She nodded and thought back at the pack meeting they had called, sans Alpha, at the Stilinski household that weekend.

 

_  
“Okay,” John had said, rubbing his forehead, “Can someone please explain to me what exactly is going on?”_

  
_Lydia sighed and figured the best place to start was at the beginning. She outlined what the Sheriff already knew. How it started off as a plan to keep the wolves’ instincts to protect their pack member at bay and to give Stiles a breather from everything. Then she surged forward to the part where they had detected the threat of a new pack in the area._  
  
_“Their overall agenda seemed to be aimed towards a spark.”_  
  
_“So Stiles?”_  
  
_She pursed her lips, “Not exactly. They were after “The Spark of Beacon Hills” more or less. Not specifically “Stiles”. So when we figured that, we pushed him even further so that distinct line between “The Spark” and “Stiles” stayed distinct. And it was working. There was no direct threats or actions made against Stiles and it’s not like he knows how to use his spark so it was unlikely that they would ever find out in a different way.”_  
  
_“But how did they know, then?”_  
  
_Lydia shrugged in frustration, because she, too, had been pondering this exact thought for a while now. There was no possible way they could have know unless they were playing coy the entire time. But it didn’t make sense._  
  
_“We don’t know yet. But we figured that their move was a friendly one instead of a violent overtake. Maybe they’re too weak to take us on or wanted as little blood shed as possible. But they worked to build a trust between them.”_  
  
_"Obviously,” John grumbled._  
  
_“I don’t think James meant to out himself as soon as he did. I think this is a setback for them and how they come out of this will depend on what their intentions truly are. But there’s no doubt in my mind that they’re malicious.”_  
  
_“So,” John asked, looking around the room at each Beta, “do you still think they’re going to try and get Stiles? Now that they know? Or, now that they know that we know that...they know?”_  
  
_“I think they’ll try and keep the innocent act up. Keep the friendly facade, try to regain Stiles’ trust and then make their move like they originally planned. Like I said, a setback.”_  
  
_“Do you think that Stiles...that they’ll be able to do that?”_  
  
_“I don’t know. They seem to have business in playing the long games. But that’s what we’re here for. To make sure that doesn’t happen.”_

  


“Stiles, I’m sorry. _We’re_ sorry. But...I don’t think you understand.”

“What could I possibly not understand, Lydia?” He spat, the anger back.

“Packs don’t work like that. I know you know that. I read your research. They don’t just throw someone away because they’re having trouble. They don’t throw out a _victim_ , Stiles. If anything they hold them closer.”  
  
“Just like _you_ did?”  
  
“It was the only way we thought we could keep you _alive!_ ” She cried and silence followed. After a moment she let out a heavy breath and continued on in a much calmer voice, “It was the only way we knew how to keep you alive. I wish we had gone about it differently. We could have told you, but you would have tried to help. We could have kept you in the in, but that would have given you away. Everything we did, no matter how stupid it was, was to keep you alive. And don’t you dare for a second think that we went through all of this trouble just to turn around and throw you out. Stiles, we love you. We need you. But most of all we _want_ you. We want your sarcasm and that brilliant mind of yours. Spark or not, we want _Stiles._ ” When he didn’t respond, Lydia reached out and covered his hand with her own, “And no amount of your past or future is going to change that.”

He finally looked up at her, eyes shining with tears and she matched him with a watery smile.

“Thanks.”

She shook her head, “I know it’s not over but...just remember that. Okay? No matter what happens next.”

He nodded his agreement and an air seemed to lift around them. They sat there in a companionable silence until the bell for the next period rang through the school

“I have to go wash my face,” she said, standing and flattening out her skirt, “I’ll meet you by the Porsche? I bet we can get Jackson to bring us to Ruby’s for a sundae. I think after today I need some chocolate.”

Stiles smiled up at her and nodded, “It’s a date, Lyds.”

 

He headed towards the lunch room, his mind flitting place to place. He couldn’t quite place his own emotions, too unsettled to think. He didn’t know if he was unnerved or relieved or calm or anxious. He couldn’t settle. He couldnt--

All of that rushed out of him, however, when he saw Isaac waiting for him at his usual lunch spot. Seeing his packmate, no matter the circumstance, gifted him with a sense of calm. At least he knew he would be okay. Even if it was just for the 40 minutes of lunch that he had. He slid in the seat across from the blonde and watched as he perked up like he hadn’t actually expected Stiles to come sit with him. Which...actually wasn’t a far stretch. It was quite possible that if he hadn’t just had that conversation with Lydia that he would have stormed away, calmed feeling be damned.

They two just sat there for a moment before Isaac reached into his bag and pulled out a tin of...of cookies. He clicked off the tupperware top and slid them across the table to Stiles. The boy only raised an eyebrow at this but said nothing. Then, Isaac was pulling out something else from his bag and oh...oh no way. Batman comics. Like twenty of them. Confined in a laminated slip. He, too, slid them across the table next to the cookies and this time it was he who raised an eyebrow. Stiles let his eyes go from the spoils that sat in front of him to Isaac a few hundred times before he let out a loud sigh.

“Fine, you’re forgiven. Only because there are white macadamia nut and I know you had no choice but to follow orders.”

Isaac grinned in relief and lunged over the table to bring Stiles into a hug. Wasting no time, he stood up and sat next to Stiles (practically on top of him) and leaned against his shoulder, subtly scent marking him.

“I missed you,” he grumbled as Stiles munched on one of the cookies.

Stiles opened his mouth to reply when Isaac sat up ramrod straight next to him. He felt his stomach drop and looked up to see exactly what he had expected.

James, Laurel, Michael, Amanda and Tyler heading straight towards them.

 

~~PART II~~

 

As soon as they were done talking and out of earshot, Jackson lifted him up by his upper arm.

“Come on, let’s go.”  
  
“Where?”  
  
“Derek.”

“I have a test next period,” he whined as the werewolf led him out of the cafeteria and into the parking lot.

“I’ll take it for you.”

He let out a noise from the back of his throat. Jackson rolled his eyes.

“Fine, I’ll have Lydia take it.”

“Better.”

“Hmph.”  
  
“Speaking of Lydia, you owe us sundaes from Ruby’s.”  
  
“Yeah, fine. Whatever. Just get in the car, please.”

This time it was Stiles’ turn to roll his eyes, but slid into the silver car nonetheless.

They got to the apartment, a place where Stiles was spending completely too much time, in less than ten minutes. Derek flung open the door before they reached the end of the hallway.

“What happened?”

“They offered me a position in their pack.”

 

_Isaac had had a steadfast grip on Stiles’ arm, already sending out a text with his free hand._

_Wordlessly, the group had sat down on the opposite side of the table, James meeting Stiles’ eyes immediately._

_“Stiles,” he said, his voice low and careful._

_“James,” came his hard response._

_“I’m assuming...you know what we are.”_

_Stiles just sat up straighter._

_“How? I mean...how do you--”_

_Amanda cut him off, “It doesn't matter how, James. He knows. He knows and that means something has happened to make him know. Either way, he knows.”_

_James let out a low growl, something Stiles thought of as a playful action between the friends. Turns out he was sadly mistaken._

_“Look. We’re not going to harm you. We’re not dangerous. Not all werewolves are dangerous and--”_  
  
_“I know.”_

_“O-oh. Good. But...then,” his eyes shifted to Laurel who was looking on at Stiles with her young sad eyes before continuing, “I don’t understand why you ran, then.”_

_For a fraction of a minute, despite the heavy air of tension, he saw the James he had come to know. The boy who loved comics and movies and was shy and confident all at once. Stiles shook the thought, keeping his guard up and his instincts at arms length._

_“No. Not all werewolves are dangerous. But some are.”_

_“We would never hurt you Stiles,” came Laurel’s soft voice._

_His eyes flicked to her and he found himself nodding._

_“Then what is it that you want then?”_

_“We want you.”_

_He felt Isaac’s grip tighten. He saw Jackson and Erica skid into the cafeteria entrance. He stopped breathing. He blinked. Once. Twice._

_“What?”_  
  
_Because that had not been at all what he (or any of the others...obviously) had been expecting. He had been expecting a full moon ritual where they harvested his organs and extracted his spark or a pack inclusive hunt on Hale land just the make a statement. But...this? Offered membership in their pack? Nope/_

 _“We know you’re only human--”_  
  
_Only human? Did they not know about the spark then? He didn’t...suddenly the puzzle that seemed to have almost been pieced together was out of whack entirely again._

_“--but you’re loyal and brave and everything our pack seeks for. You fit in perfectly with us and we want you in our pack Stiles.”_

_He saw Jackson and Erica stiffen out of the corner of his eye and felt Isaac’s claws poking through._

_He had a pack. Right? But..._

_He thought about James and his friends...er his pack._

_How James seemed to want him...James had always seemed to have wanted him. From the beginning. From the way he kissed him that night._

_How they had picked him. Derek and Scott had been stuck with him. But James had picked him. Whether it had been for the Spark or not. He had been picked. Chosen._

_How with them he never had wondered about his worth. And while the pack was trying its best to redeem themselves in that area and show Stiles how much he apparently meant to them, with James he never even had to ask._

_How they complimented him and brought him soup and pizza and movies._

_How they liked him and invited him places._

_How they wanted him._

_Then he thought about his pack._

_How they were broken and beaten down._

_How they lied to him._

_How they fought each other and had problems with authority._

_How they had ignored him and could-shouldered his feelings._

_How...how..._

_Would it be like that with James? Would Stiles ever have to question his self worth again? He doubted it. He highly highly doubted it._

_But he remembered Derek. And the pure truth in his eyes when he had said, “ You are so much more than that.” And while James and Laurel had spent the past month giving him wordy declarations of his worth, Derek had just barely said that. But it was the unspoken words in the few that truly resonated with him. When Derek had claimed that Stiles was more, he knew it wasn’t just a comforting phrase. Because Derek didn’t speak without meaning. Stiles knew it had been a promise. And that...that was why it was hardly a choice at all._

_“I already have a pack.”_  
  
_At that, James and the other seemed taken aback._

_“Wha--,” Amanda started._

_But the illuminated eyes of Isaac as well as Boyd, Erica and Jackson, who had come up behind him, cut her off._

_“Oh,” James said, sounding as if he had finally put everything together and wasn’t satisfied with the outcome. Which, Stiles supposed, was pretty true and on the mark._

_Seeing that there were four werewolves that were ready to fight his pack in broad daylight, James gave in and stood. The others followed their Alpha’s son. Stiles followed them with their eyes but said nothing._

_“Just...think about it,” James sighed as he began to walk away._  
  
_“I’m sorry, I can’t.”_

_James paused and looked Stiles in the eyes. It was strange, being this distant from someone he had come to call a best friend, having formed a relationship and having it mean nothing in the end._

_“Think about it,” he insisted once more and turned to go._

_Laurel lingered for a moment, taking the spot of James’ eye contact. She only gave Stiles a sad understanding smiles, one in which he returned, before scurrying off after the others._

_Before he knew it, Jackson was up and shoving him towards the car with little explanation, just a statement that they had to get to Derek._

 

" _Did_ you think about it?”  
  
“I...”

Jackson had been dismissed and Derek, as usual, had sat Stiles down on the couch and placed a cup of hot tea in his hand.  
  
“I _said_ no.”

“That’s not what I asked.”  
  
“Did I think about it? Sure. Maybe for a second.”

His Alpha eyes shown red but he said nothing. Stiles knew he had to keep talking. Because while Derek didn’t use a lot of words for his output, he knew that the werewolf needed a lot of words for his input.

“I was miserable, Derek. My friends had abandoned me. My Dad had to keep secrets. It was like before. Like with Theo. No one would look at me. Do you know what that was _like_ ?”  
  
“I,” Derek coughed, “I heard some of your conversation with Lydia.”

Stiles blushed and stood up to fidget, putting the mug down on the coffee table, “I get that I’m just a human and don’t have anything to really contribute to the pack but I at least thought that I was _something_.”

“Jesus Stiles,” Derek breathed.

The boy’s face fell immediately, “I...I knew I shouldn’t have assumed. But I did and I--”  
  
“No. No you shouldn’t have assumed. You shouldn’t have assumed because you should have known. And...damn it Stiles,” the wolf moved to pace a few steps before turning back to him, “I can’t understand how you don’t see it. Stiles, you’re _everything_ to this pack. You’re the...My Mom used to call it the anchor. The one in the pack that draws everyone in, who grounds us. The...the glue that keeps us all sane and together. Do you think we could have combined packs if it wasn’t for you? You’re the first person that the pack seeks out in times of panic and in celebration. Your home is the second pack house because it smells like you. Did you think it was just because it was conveniently located? Because it’s not, Stiles. You’re my second. The other half of the Alpha Pair and--”  
“I thought Scott was the--”  
  
“Scott’s the _pack’s_ second. You’re mine. Every decision, if you haven’t noticed, goes through you. Every plan is brought to _us_.”

“Except...”

“That was an executive decision. And even before it turned into that, did I not run it by you?”  
  
“Derek--”  
  
“No, Stiles. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I didn’t see how miserable you were or that you possibly could have thought that we would... _could_ get rid of you like that. I’m sorry I didn’t see how hard it was for--”

“My _pack_ kicked me out. Of _course_ it was hard for me!”

“--and I’m _sorry_ that you felt like we kicked you out or that we ever, ever would! I should have noticed but I didn’t! And you have to know that the intention wasn’t to make you feel like that! I never want you to feel like that! But Stiles...damn it. How could you not _know_?”

“Not know _what_?”

“What you are. To us. To me?”

“...Derek.”

“Stiles, you’re one of the most important people in the world to me. And I’m sorry that I haven’t been able to...”

He was suddenly cut off with a heavy body slamming into his.

Stiles had his arms wrapped around him, his face smashed into Derek’s chest and the scent of tears in the air. Derek was stunned into silence, but let his arms snake around Stiles, holding him close.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into the top of Stiles’ head.

But Stiles only shook his head.

“Just promise me, Derek. Never again.”  
  
“Never,” he agreed, tightening his grip around the boy, “Never again. No secrets. No lies. Not anymore. I promise.”

“Me, too. Me, too. I promise.”  
  
And for right now, that was the best they could do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, these kids really need to stay in school. So...how did you all feel about that very Derek-esque confession? Not quite a love confession but...very Derek? I don't know where I'm going with this.
> 
> Just a reminder that I love all of my readers and I truly appreciate every kudos, comment and view you send my way. In return, I send my love x


	12. Cubs vs Rays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Locker Room Talk" *rolls eyes so hard...like SO hard*...But, yes, this is the actual summary for the chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew...this monster is 61 fricken pages on my laptop. I never dreamed of ever writing something this long.  
> This has been my most successful piece yet which is ironic, since if you read these author notes, you know I planned for this to be my throw away piece. And here we are...me posting another chapter instead of doing my post lab and studying for midterms.
> 
> Sidenote: You all know I love comments, but before you post something, maybe refer to ch11’s author note? Some of you all have amazing ideas and I’d love to collaborate with yall. But this is not the piece for it. This has a direction and a definite ending that has already been written out. I don’t want to disappoint anybody, but...  
> And also, I appreciate constructive criticism. Not just criticism. Just remember that I’m super sensitive (okay, maybe not super SUPER sensitive) over the internet and that even if you didn’t intend something to come across as such, it does. I promised yall in like ch1 that I read into comments like a problem ;* 
> 
> As always, I’m sending my love and appreciation.  
> I hope you like this chapter & the next one should be up shortly.

The rest of the week went on without incident. Until Friday.

 

James and everyone else kept their distance while one of the pack was constantly at his side, scenting him or tailing him in the halls. If he hadn’t been completely drained by everything, he probably would have made some kind of joke about it. But he was...completely drained, that is.

Columbus Day was in two weeks. Which meant a long weekend. Which meant an extra day off. All to himself. He had never been looking forward to something so much in his life. He just wanted those three days to do nothing. To curl up in bed, possibly with Derek, and do absolutely nothing. He could already feel the radiated warmth of the Alpha, trapped under Stiles’ fluffy comforter. He just had to make it through. 

Two more weeks.

Two more weeks of wearing Derek’s t-shirts to school (not like he minded this...at all).

Two more weeks of overprotective werewolves bringing him cookies and comic books and Reese’s and bagels and coffees to make up for their bone headed decisions (he didn’t particularly mind this either).

Two more weeks of tiptoeing down the hallways.

Two more weeks of longing looks from James and the others.

Two more weeks of cautious looks from Scott and two more weeks of Stiles deflecting them with his own angry ones.

Two more weeks of being bone tired.

He just needed to recharge for a while. And with everything going on, it was nearly impossible.

Two more weeks, two more weeks, two more weeks. It had become a mantra.

 

He sat quietly on the bleachers in the gym, waiting for Isaac and Jackson who were running the cross country trail. He absentmindedly played with the hem of his purple hoodie--an apology gift from Liam, since a while ago he had personally destroyed Stiles’ other one when he had first been turned--when something caught it attention.

He startled at her soft touch, stilling immediately. Dread filled his stomach, but he refused to be deterred by it. She removed her hand and Stiles stutted out a greeting.

“H-hi.”

Her small smile, however, made him relax. This was Laurel for God’s sake.

“Hi,” she responded.

“I...I, um--”

“You don’t have to explain.”  
  
He looked at her but said nothing. So she went on.

“I didn’t get it at first. The pack thing? I guess it’s all instinct. It’s harder for humans to get the hang of it.”

“What...what do you mean? Aren’t you...you know...” he imitated claws by curling his fingers and opening his mouth to portray fangs.

She laughed quietly at him, the sound still innocent and bell like as always, but she shook her head, “No. I’m pretty ordinary.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

She grinned at him and knocked into his shoulder good naturedly.

“No. I’m not a werewolf. The rest of them are. Lucille, you met her--”  
  
“James’ mom,” he filled in.

She nodded, “She’s our Alpha.”

Stiles stayed quiet. He had figured as much.

“Can I...can I ask you something?”  
  
He shrugged. He was pretty much fraternizing with enemy numero uno on the “Stiles Threat List”...well _re_ -fraternizing.

“Why don’t you want to be with us?”

Stiles sighed. He should have seen this coming. He really, really should have. He shut his eyes and took a breath. His mind went back to Derek, _‘You’re more than that...so much more...most important people in the world to me... more...you’re more...’_

“It’s not like...it’s not that I don’t want to. You guys are...you’re all amazing and...and...I just can’t, Laurel. I love you guys, but I love my pack, too.”

“Exactly,” he voice was small but firm and Stiles cocked an eyebrow, “Stiles. You fit in so well with us. So perfectly. I’ve never seen James to happy. _I’ve_ never been so happy.”

“But I’m already in a pack, Laurel. A pack that’s been there with me through everything. What would you do? If someone came and asked you to change packs?”  
  
“The past is in the past, Stiles. You don’t owe them anything. And I would if they treated me the way they treated you.”

He gritted his teeth. He was still frustrated with them, but it didn’t sit well with him, having someone talk about his friends...his _pack_ that way. And he...oh. _Oh_. He understood what Derek had been trying to say to him.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” it was a near growl.

“Okay,” she retreated, her soft voice instantly calming him. She grasped his hand in her own, “You’re loyal. That’s something we all love about you. But we wouldn’t make you leave them. We’d stay here in Beacon Hills. You would still see them everyday and be with your dad.”  
  
“Laurel...”

“Nothing would change. Not really. We’d just...justifiably belong together. We’d be yours and you’d be ours.”  
  
“You couldn’t pay me enough to--”

“You don’t _owe_ them anything. You know that right? That--”  
  
“I can’t, Laurel.”

“Did you even think about it?”

He clenched his jaw.

“I did.”

She opened her mouth but seemed to catch herself, the determination in her eyes sputtering out into the familiar sweet expression that Stiles was used to.

“Okay,” she whispered. “I’m not going to force you. Obviously. I just wanted to know. Just...the offer stands. No matter what, okay? We’d still want you in ten years time. Twenty if you grow up nice.”

He allowed a small grin. They sat there in companionable silence for awhile, watching as a few students cut through the gym to get to their classes. He was about to speak again to ask her how Science with Harris was going, when a loud crash cut him off. He immediately recognized the sound to be the crunching of lockers--he ignored the reason that he could identify such a sound--and exchanged a worried look with Laurel.

In a second he launched himself off the bleachers and headed towards the locker room, her close on his tail. He rounded the sharp corner and skidded to an abrupt stop when saw James and Jackson crashing into each other, their eyes were glowing, their claws were out, fangs dropped, hair sprouted. Seeing James, always so gentle, shifted made his heart stop.

At their entrance, James distracted, giving Jackson the upper hand. He didn’t hesitate to land a punch to James’ face, once, twice, three times. It all happened in a matter of seconds, James slashing at Jackson in between each hit, Jackson coming back with strikes even harder than his last. By the time Stiles reached them, both of them were bloodied head to toe.

He latched onto Jackson’s arm, pulling him backwards in desperation. He knew it was stupid to get in between two wolves fighting (as he had learned the hard way) but he knew that Jackson wouldn’t harm him. If he hadn’t hurt him in his kanima form (explicitly) then Stiles had no doubt that he wouldn’t in this form.

“Jackson. _Jackson!_ Stop! Jackson!”

With another growl, he did stop, allowing Stiles to drag him back by his arm. Once the claws and fangs had fully receded, he continued to shove the wolf back into the row of lockers.

“What the hell?” He asked through gritted teeth.

“He was--”  
  
“I don’t care what he was doing, Jackson! We’re trying to avoid this whole violence thing.”  
  
“ _No_ , we’re trying to avoid this whole they’re trying to kill you thing.”

Ah, Jackson. His bratty attitude intact, as always.

“We’re not going to hurt him,” James growled past his fangs.

At that Jackson surged forward again, fangs dropping. Stiles’ steady hand on his chest the only thing holding him back.

“There’s been too much bloodshed already, Jackson,” he warned-- _pleaded_ \--in a low voice, “Don’t make it more than it needs to be. James was of no direct threat to _me_ while he was in here with you. You lost your shit. Don’t let it happen again.” Jackson only glared at him defiantly, “Are you hurt?”

He let out a breath and shook his head. His electric eyes fading out into his usual mundane blue color.

Stiles turned to Laurel who was heaving James to his feet. His face was bloodied but it was already healing. Once he straightened himself he looked past Stiles to Jackson. His face was hard and fierce. An expression that he wasn’t used to seeing on the boy. After everything, the movie nights, the take out, the cuddling, the hugs, the game nights, the kiss, a part of him wished he could have taken James’ side. But the _rest_ of him...the rest of him...

James’ eyes suddenly snapped to Stiles. There was something in his eyes that he couldn’t quite place. He looked exhausted and was breathing heavily from the fight. Stiles knew his chemo signals were whack right now. Fear and relief and sadness and anger...before he could even speak James’ eyes went back to Jackson. James flashed his amber eyes at them and Jackson’s blue ones flashed back in response. It looked as if he were about to attack again when Isaac came crashing into the room still wearing his running clothes, claws already out, eyes already glowing in warning. The room seemed to still instantly with the new introduced wolf.

Laurel exchanged a wide eyed glance with Stiles before she grabbed James’ arm and began shuffling him into the other locker room without another word.

“See you around, Whittemore,” James sneered.

Jackson’s had immediately wrapped around Stiles’ forearm as if he was ready to pull him back and defend him.

The uncharacteristic comment made Stiles’ heart thud. But he wasn’t shocked. Everybody had _that_ side to them. Stiles had beaten creatures to death with his bat before only to return to school on Monday like the only obstacle faced that weekend was his AP History homework. He had seen the betas beat things to a pulp and later that day go to the movies. It was a different side. A side that couldn’t...wouldn’t be held against anyone on this side of the world. It was necessary for survival. You couldn’t be all soft all the time...but you couldn’t be all hard either.

After a long minute, Isaac pried Stiles out of Jackson’s grip and pushed the bloodied werewolf towards the showers. Stiles rubbed his face with his large hands and sat down on one of the benches next to Isaac.

“Shit, Stilinski,” Jackson huffed from over the top of the divider, “I didn’t mean to--he was--”  
  
“It’s okay. Just...” he sighed and looked from Jackson’s back to the door James had disappeared through, “I don’t want this to end in a bloodbath.”

 

 

On Sunday Scott showed up at his door.

He answered it in a pair of Isaac’s pants and one of Derek’s shirts. The pack at been showering him with their articles of clothing lately, trying to scent him even when they weren’t there. And if the murderous stares he was getting from James and the others were any indication, it was working. He hadn’t seen James since the locker room incident, he and the others ditching the last part of the day.

“What?”

“I...can we talk?”  
  
“No. Not right now.”

He was having a good weekend. It was a Sunday, Derek was coming over to watch the Cubs/Rays game, his Dad took off work and they were ordering a pizza. He didn’t want to mess it up.

“Stiles, please. I want to apologize.”  
  
“I appreciate it, really. But not today.”

“ _Stiles_ \--”

“Stiles,” came a voice from behind them. Derek was there, dressed in a soft green henley and jeans. Despite his leather jacket he looked soft as he usually did on Sundays. His keys were in his hand, but his car was nowhere to be found--something Stiles would inevitably ask him about later.

“Derek,” Scott regarded coolly.

“What is it?”  
  
“I needed to talk to Stiles.”

The Alpha’s eyes flickered between the two. He could tell by Stiles’ body language--arms crossed over his abdomen, arms on his elbows, his posture shrunken in on himself--that he didn’t exactly want to talk. Whiskey eyes were on Derek as if he was scared that he’d make him.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea right now.”

The smell of relief that came from the human was almost overwhelming.  
  
“But...can’t you...”  
  
“Can’t I what, Scott? I can’t force him, if that’s what you mean. Go home. You can talk later.”

Scott threw Stiles an angry look that only multiplied when it landed on Derek. Without another word he walked back towards his bike. Derek shuffled inside, not even sparing Scott a second glance.

“What was that about?”

Stiles shut the door and shrugged, “I assume he came to apologize for acting like the biggest asshole on the planet. But I’m too tired to deal with any of that right now.”

Derek nodded once and took a seat at the island in the kitchen while Stiles poured two cups of coffee even though it was well past noon.

“Where’s your Dad?”  
  
“At work. He got called in early. He’ll be here for the game.”

Again Derek nodded, “Isaac told me what happened at school.”

Stiles snorted, “Yeah.”

“Everything okay?”

Stiles shrugged and placed a mug in front of Derek and walked back to lean against the counter, his own mug cradled in his hands, “I mean, I guess.”

Derek hummed into his cup.

“I don’t like this. Something’s off.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. Just...something.”

“I’ll keep an eye out,” Stiles reassured.

At that Derek smiled, “I know you will.”

 

John got home an hour later to the two of them splayed out on the living room floor playing _Mouse Trap_. Derek was winning by a mile and Stiles was cheating to catch up. When the pizza came they all took two pieces and settled in to watch the game. By the third inning the Cubs were up by one and Stiles was tucked under Derek’s arm. John would occasionally make a comment about a bad call or a clean play and Derek would counter it.

For the first time in a month, Stiles felt peace.

But he couldn’t help the feeling deep in his gut that this was the calm before the storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo....what did you think? It’s a short chapter, but I’m setting you up for the upcoming ones. And trust me, you'll get your Scott/Stiles scene soon....aaaand maybe a James scene as well?  
> How about that Mouse Trap though? I can totally totally see Derek kicking Stiles' ass in a simple board game and Stiles cheating to catch up...and of course Derek notices but depending on the day and how Stiles is, he feigns ignorance or calls him out on it which results in an all out brawl that the Sheriff has to mediate...unless of course he was playing too.  
> There you go, my daily head cannon x  
> Thanks for reading & see you soon (hopefully in the comments?)  
> Lots of Love & Lots of Sterek x


	13. Tigers vs Twins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally get your Sciles Scene & Things Start Getting Dicey Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hola.  
> Here I am again. Midterms week. Writing this instead of working on my paper on Kantian Ethics due in a few hours. Whatever. If I'm going to get a B, I'm at least going to get a B with a finished fanfic.  
> Priorities. I know.
> 
> So...here's Chapter 13. I feel like the fanfic has gotten kind of...idk stagnant in everything from viewers to comments to the actual fic itself. Let me know how you guys are feeling about it?
> 
> Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

A storm? Not so much. A supernatural shitshow was more like it.

 

It was the full moon.

In a perfect world Stiles would have been reunited with his pack by now, their overprotective instincts would have quelled and James and Stiles would still be friends...maybe more if that party had been any indication. But, as he knows, the world isn’t perfect. Far from, actually.

And that was why he barely blinked when there was a frantic banging on his front door. He simply grumbled at the noise before shuffling down the stairs in his pajamas, leaving the rerun of the Tigers/Twins game crackling over his laptop.

He hoped no one was bleeding. _God,_ he hoped no one was bleeding.

He hadn’t spoken to Derek since Sunday. He wasn’t answering any of Stiles’ texts and when he had called he told Stiles that he was busy and would call him later on that week. Come to think of it...the entire pack had been pretty dodgy lately... _again_ . If he survived whatever encounter was at the door he’d confront them about it. Derek had _promised_.

The banging came again and he muttered under his breath about impatient werewolves (because who else could it be at 11:47 on a Tuesday night?) while rounding the corner of the kitchen. He wrenched open the door and was met by a young distraught looking girl.

“Get dressed,” she hissed.

 

The thick tension between the packs had been apparent.   
Jackson would sneer at them every time they passed the other pack in the hallway, shielding Stiles away with his body like they would up and spontaneously attack him during second period History. James and Amanda would flash their eyes at them, Michael would let out a low growl, Fen would drop his fangs. Laurel and he would exchange concerned glances but wouldn’t go as far as exchanging words.  
Every time one of James’ pack was in the vicinity, Isaac or Boyd or Erica or Liam would be at his side the next minute. It was great until Stiles had to take the shit of his life and Erica slammed in the door of the Men's room.

The whole thing _was_ weird. Like Derek had said, something was off. Things just weren’t adding up. For one, Stiles didn’t exactly _feel_ threatened. And sure, James and Laurel and the whole Grey pack had been friendly with him before, and maybe that was why. But Theo had been just as nice. And _he,_ Stiles felt threatened by. His instincts were the base of his survival and right now they were settled.

Well they _had_ settled as soon as he and Scott finally had their screaming match/make up. It was dramatic. Very dramatic. The kind of thing you see on Soap Operas or Reality TV.

 

_He had come to him after school on Monday, shoving Jackson aside and growling at him to go home. Poor Jackson, Stiles distantly thought, everyone’s always telling him to leave. The blonde glanced at Stiles, who sighed and nodded, giving him the ‘okay’ to leave him alone with the near feral werewolf in his livingroom. He crossed his arms across his broad chest and very narrowly avoided tapping his foot like his inner mother wanted to._

_“What do you want Scott?”_

_“Just...let me talk.”_

_He threw his hands up in the air, a clear sign of defeat._

_“I’m sorry. Okay?”_

_There was a silence. Stiles was tired of being mad. He really was. He had more or less forgiven the pack by now. Well, enough so that they were slowly resurfacing around his house and sharing easy conversations in school. But Scott’s betrayal was the hardest. Because unlike the others who, while equally as guilty, were still following orders. Mr. True Alpha, suppressed or not, didn’t have to. He knows after everything, that Stiles hates being left in the dark. That him not having control, even over the tiniest thing, could launch him into a panic attack._

_Stiles prided himself on having a broad perspective about things. He could, more or less, see all sides of the situation before calling judgement. And, begrudgingly so, he could see where Derek and Scott and everyone else had been coming from...he had to really really apply himself, but he could still see it. It was stupid and dangerous and wrong and could have potentially been lethal. But, his other side reasoned, they honestly thought it was the only way to keep him safe. It was stupid, but it was done in good faith. And that, Stiles couldn’t argue with. They had, in their puny little werewolf minds (honestly, they were lucky they had him), had tried their damned hardest to protect him. And that, he could at least be a little grateful for. He knew his pack would do anything to protect him. It healed a little bit of himself upon the realization._

_While he was broken...and breaking...while he was merely human...while he was annoying...they had tried to keep him. EVEN IF IT WAS STUPID. They had tried. He thought about it every time he was feeling a little blue around the edges and his heart would swell. Derek would throw him a sideways look, an expression that seemed to read that he knew exactly what Stiles was thinking about, before smiling quietly and linking their hands. As if to say, we’ll always protect you, you idiot...we love you. Sure he could have been making it up, but it was a happy fantasy and Stiles didn’t look too far into it, nor did he want to._

_But with Scott...it wasn’t just the secrets of the “S.O.S” Club (Save Our Stiles Club...as he was calling it). It was the things he had said...not the things that he didn’t._

_**Even if your feelings are a little hurt...Stop being selfish...And just because you’re hurt or whatever.** _

_Just thinking back made his stomach lurch. Because Scott...Scott knows better. He knew better and whether he had just been mad and lashed our or had deliberately tried to hurt him...he knew better. And while the words hurt, that fact hurt even more._

_He waited._

_“Stiles...I won’t blame the wolf because--”_  
  
_“Because it’s not the wolf’s fault Scott. It’s yours,” he cut off sharply._

_Scott frowned. Sure they had their occasional fights, speckles and spats and insults and exchanged blows (hello....Theo?), but Stiles had never been this sharp, this cold or angry. Because Theo was the first betrayal. This? This was the second. And he couldn’t wait around for Strike Three. He voiced this and watched as Scott’s strong expression melted into shame._

_“I know,” his voice was broken, “I know and I’m sorry. I fucked up. Stiles,” he shook his head, “You’re not selfish or...or...you’re the most selfless person I know. I don’t know why I said it.”_  
  
_“Because you were jealous.”_

_It felt weird saying it aloud. He had never imagined himself someone to get jealous **over**. And here he was, completely sure that that was what was happening right now. Scott was jealous that he got a new friend._

_“I know. I was mad. It was like someone took--”_

_“I’m not **property** , Scott,” the words came venomous off his tongue. _

_He couldn’t stand the idea of being owned...controlled. Not again._

_Scott’s eyes flashed._

“ _I didn’t mean that. And the things....the things you said--”_  
  
_“Were all true.”_

_“No,” he snapped, “they weren’t.”_

_A cold feeling settled in Stiles. Because fights happened with brothers. Fights happened and no matter what they still stayed brothers. Because that’s what they were--brothers. But in his heart, Stiles knew that if they didn’t come out of this one with at least an understanding there was no going back. Their relationship would never be the same. It wouldn’t survive this. That being said, though...Stiles wasn’t going to roll over like he had every other time. He was done being the “bigger person”. He was done apologizing first and letting everyone else take that as permission to shit all over him again and again. He finally knew he had people that would fight for him no matter what (Derek and his Dad) and he wasn’t about to gamble with his feelings when he could cut ties without damaging himself. Because, before, Scott was in that category. But now he was what they needed to be fighting against. Another cold front settled in his chest, like another layer of impending doom. He let out a shaky breath._

_“I wasn’t jealous because...because I expect you to wait around for me,” Scott continues, “I...I was jealous, yes. But that’s not why Stiles. I don’t...Okay, well I do expect you to be there all the time. But that’s not just so I can use you and have you clean up my messes and,” he let a long breath out, “I don’t think that you’re obligated to do that Stiles. I don’t think you’re obligated to do any of those things. But I do...I do expect you to do them--”  
_ _  
_ _“Not really helping your case here, Scott.”_

_“Let me finish. You’re not obligated and I don’t think that you are. But I do expect it. And maybe...I mean, I do. I expect it too much and I rely on the fact that you will be there to help me all the time because you are.”_

_“Realllly not helping your case.”_

_He growled and Stiles flung his hands up in surrender._

_“I expect it because you’re my best friend. Because you’ve always been my best friend. You’re always there to help me. You’re my brother, Stiles. And I know I can be single minded sometimes and I know that sometimes I forget that--”_   
_  
“That I have feelings?”_

_He glared, “That not everyone is on the same page as me. And I know I fucked up and what we did...I did, was stupid. And I get that you’re mad at me. But...even if you don’t forgive me you just need to know that I wasn’t mad for the reasons you said I was. I was mad because you’re my best friend and...and I need you Stiles. I always will. And maybe it won’t be to pick up my messes or fight the supernatural. But I will always need you.”_

_Stiles swallowed and watched as Scott paused and nodded in what seemed to be acceptance and turned to leave. He snapped his hand out and grabbed the sleeve of the werewolf’s shirt before he could go. Scott’s eyes jumped up to meet his, a guarded hopeful look in them._

_“Why, Scott? What will you need me for?” His voice was low, fragile._

_He needed to know._

_“I...I need you. Your bad jokes and your rambling and our video game nights and when you show up at my house and scare Mom. I need your sarcasm and your...judgement and your approval. I’ll need you to be my best man at my wedding and the Uncle of my kids, because no matter who I end up with, the only thing for certain is you. I’ll need your optimism and pessimism and just you to get me through life, Stiles. And I know these reasons sound selfish and....but you're my brother. And while you’re not obligated to be there for all of that, I expect you to be. And--”_

_He was cut off by the human slamming into him, burying his face in the crook of his neck and wrapping his arms around him. Scott returned the gesture. The cold previously felt in Stiles’ chest blossomed and he allowed himself be engulfed by his best friend. He held him tight and Scott held on even tighter._

_“I love you,” Scott said, “And I’m so sorry.”_

_Stiles only nodded against him, choked on all the words he could have said._

_They played video games all night and snacked on all the junk food from the pantry. When John came home he took one look at the boys and nodded as if to say, all justice is restored, and went upstairs without a word._

 

But anyways...the tension. Yes. Bad. Very bad. And obvious.

He was pretty sure poor little old lady Jenkins thought there was a gang war at hand.   
So...he had been mildly surprised when he’d open the door to find Laurel standing there, panic in both her eyes and voice.

Without explanation, Stiles had clambered up the stairs and grabbed the clothes he had been wearing that day. Worn jeans, one of Jackson’s Henley's and one of his favorite layered sweatshirt jackets.

He paused. What was he doing? Technically, Laurel was part of the “enemy” pack. Her showing up here on the full moon? When his whole pack was out? He didn’t actually think she’d hurt him, but the survivalist in him reminded him to be weary.

“Stiles!” She called eagerly from downstairs, “Hurry!”

He bit his lip, and grabbed the vial of wolfsbane on his nightstand, tucking it in his pocket as he jogged down the stairs. Laurel followed close behind and climbed into the jeep.

“The Hale Preserve,” she murmured, her hands twisting in her lap.

He started the engine and followed the dark roads. By now the journey was second nature.

“What’s going on?”

“They’re going to fight.”

“Who?” He asked, it was nearly a yell. “Who’s going to fight?”  
  
In his gut he already knew the answer...but hearing it aloud wasn't any easier.

“The Packs. They’re going to fight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...another cliffhanger because I'm trash, apparently. Tell me something I don't know.
> 
> Prompts are now open here >> http://midnightcas.tumblr.com/ask
> 
> How was it? Are yall still excited? Is it getting old? Help me out??  
> Please leave a comment/review...pretty please? I die off without them.
> 
> Lots of Love & Lots of Sterek x


	14. Pack vs Pack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles makes a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just had the worst salad dressing ever.
> 
> Okay....so two chapters in one day because procrastination is a magical magical thing.  
> So, we get a little Sterek here. I know, about fricken time.
> 
> Anyways, I hope this update is up to your standards! I rather enjoyed writing it.  
> Lots of Love x

They drove as far as they could until the trees stood impossibly sturdy in their paths. Stiles jumped out of the jeep, grabbing the bat from his trunk. Laurel lead with quick steps, obvious fear in her movements. Stiles stuck close by, not wanting to get lost in the thick cold woods. He didn’t need anything else to add to the list of “Things That Will Most Likely Cause Impending Doom”. It was already quite long.

He ducked under fallen trees, swatted fallen branches, trying to keep his eyes fixed on the back of Laurel’s head. They finally reached the clearing and Stiles’ heart nearly dropped from his chest.

Scott, in his beta form, and Jackson, in full shift, were both bloodied with another wolf in just as bad of shape in between the two groups. Derek stood in front, a large black wolf with his teeth bared and his hackles raised, the rest of the pack shifted and ready behind him. On the other side of the clearing the Grey Pack stood, Lucille and Tom and the other adults were there. Even without the teens--Amanda, Fen, Michael, Tyler, Adam--they were still a large pack who definitely outnumbered his. Not only that, there was a steady ratio of beta shifted wolves and fully shifted ones. They all looked older and experienced.

It was obvious that this was a losing fight for the Hales. Especially based on the fact that two out of the seven were laid out and wounded at their feet.

Isaac took a step forward, most likely going to check on his two pack mates, but was growled back into submission by Lucille. It was a threatening growl, one that held promises of attack if it happened again. Stiles didn’t know much of what was happening. But he did know that this couldn’t end up a fight. The end was practically predetermined.

He barely heard Laurel hiss after him before he was throwing himself out into the clearing, waving his arms and shouting. And hey, if it was a little dramatic, so be it. It got everyone’s attention. He dropped to his knees inspecting Jackson’s face, still unhealed and then Scott’s chest that was slowly knitting back together from being, well he assumed it was healing from being ripped open. He turned abruptly to face Lucille.

“What the hell is going on?”

When she didn’t answer he turned, “Derek?”

The wolf just whined, pawing at the ground. Stiles glared, but his attention was dragged away by someone approaching. He stood.

“ _Laurel_ ,” a woman barked (barked, ha), “I _told_ you to stay put!”

She bowed her head and hurried over to stand behind her pack, shooting Stiles an apologetic look.  
  
“Stiles--” came a timid...a timid _familiar_ voice.

He did a half turn to see James standing from a crouched position, having shifted from a full wolf. If it had been in any other predicament, Stiles would have been a blushing, stuttering mess at the fact that James was standing naked in front of him. But honestly, with the adrenaline flowing through him and the fact that he had seen way too many dicks in this context to last a lifetime, it was easy to ignore. Kind of.

“Just listen. We want you. We’re willing to fight for you. We see your worth. You said it yourself, that they don’t _want_ you. That they treat you like a liability.”

He winced at the growls from behind him. In hindsight...those statements would be a slap to the face to his pack. Especially after all the love-dove-forgive-y-ness thing they were slowly going through. Back to square one, he supposed.

“We don’t Stiles,” James continued, “We wanted you before we knew you were in a pack or before we knew you knew about what we were. We see how much you’re worth. Come on Stiles. We don’t even have to fight over this. Just tell them who you choose and we’ll figure out the rest. Make your decision. You _know_ what it is. You belong with us. You see that, don’t you? How easy it is?”

He did see it. He saw how easy it was to fit in with the pack families and get along with all the kids and spend time with them. It was easy. It was _good_. But it was like that with the pack he had now, too.  
  
They Grey pack was perfect. And that...that was the thing. They were absolutely perfect and Stiles...Stiles wasn’t.  
He _liked_ to argue. His relationship with Derek was testament enough to that.  
He _liked_ the fact that Jackson had started out as a raging asshole and ended up _still_ a raging asshole, but one of his closest friends.  
He _like_ that Erica and Boyd had run away and ended up coming back and staying.  
He _liked_ that Allison was the daugher of one of the most prominent Hunters in the North West Region of the country.  
He _liked_ that they were once a broken, rigid ball of _things_ that had built themselves up into a family. A ragtag little family that was still working out the kinks, but a family nonetheless. They were a bunch of kids from broken homes. A group of kids from nowhere. Who were nobodies. Who were all alone.  
And they grew and shifted and failed and learned and became _The Hale Pack._ A Pack _known_ for its resilience, its strength, its avant-garde ways that always had a way of working out. In the beginning, they had been the underdogs (no pun intended). But once they had come through the first few times, they had packs-- _respected_ packs and old bloodlines, previously aligned with Talia--reaching out to form alliances. _They_ had become respected. These runaway kids made a name for themselves.  
And Stiles was a part of that. Stiles had been a _big part of that_. To leave...at this point...it would be like abandoning a project and jumping ship to the finished product. And with something like this...building this _empire_ , it was as much of the journey as it was the result. This was his _family_. And if his mother had taught him one thing, it was that you never give up on family.

He let out a shaky breath and turned to face the Hale Pack. In the time James was talking, Derek had shifted back and covered himself with a pair of black sweatpants. He vaguely wondered if flashing the pack you’re about to fight is bad etiquette and if Talia had sat a little Derek and Cora down to explain that to them or if it was just born werewolfy knowledge.

Stiles flickered his eyes towards James who was watching him intently like he had looked at him that first day they met. And then again when they had the fire. And again when they had kissed. His gaze shifted back to Derek’s. _His_ eyes held a sort of desperation. A look that Stiles had only seen _once_ before. And it had been when Cora was in the hospital bed, his last sane family member dying right before his eyes (no, Peter doesn’t count).

Their eyes meet and at that moment, Stiles knew everything he needed to know.

He sighed, knowing whatever the next words out of his mouth were, people were going to be hurt.  He opened his mouth to speak just as Scott startled awake.  
  
The wolf barely looked before he fully shifted and charged at the Grey pack. And of course, they fought back. Another wolf, white in color rammed into his side before he could reach the Alpha Pair. A yelp sounded around them and that erupted chaos. Erica was there next, still in beta form, slashing at another woman who retaliated, clawing her face. Isaac and a wolf circled each other, growling and snapping in their two forms. He watched in disbelief as Scott and the other went at it, rumbling and biting and clawing and hissing. It didn’t take long for Jackson to stir awake from the ruckus. He too, immediately looked for an opening in the Grey pack to attack in, but while he was fast, Stiles was faster.

He heard his name being shouted as he flung himself on Jackson, wrapping his arms around his thick furry neck.

“STOP!” he cried to no avail.

Jackson stilled in his arms, though, giving him a lick to the side of the face. It was strangely calming and blood flew around them and cries of pain ripped through the air. The company of his pack mate gave him the courage then to let out a heavy breath as he stood and reach for the vile in his pocket. He nudged Jackson aside with his thigh as he popped open the cork and shouted one last warning. When no one even pretended to listen he threw the vial in the air, scattering the mountain ash, envisioning the circled it would draw around the two packs, the walls that would separate the pairs that were fighting, the peace around them. The wind whooshed around before the ash landed with a silent thud that Stiles felt in his chest.

Momentary shock painted expressions before fangs were out and eyes were glowing.

“Release us,” demanded a man behind Tom who calmly put a hand out in a calming gesture.

“You’re very powerful with mountain ash, pumpkin,” Lucille observed, eyes squinted slightly like she was trying to put everything together.

Stiles scoffed, “Yeah, well that’s not all I can do. But I’m sure you know that.”

“What...”  
  
“Stiles--”, James took a few steps forward, stopping at the barrier. He had been pushed back by Tom once Scott had charged and the fighting had started.

He sighed, “Look, I’m sorry, James...but I already have a pack.”

The teenagers face hardened as Stiles turned and walk the short distance to the _Hale Pack_.

The relief that flooded Derek’s face was unmistakable as Stiles reached for the Alpha’s hand and slid them together.

The Alpha’s free hand cupped Stiles’ jaw and drew him in, pressing their lips together in a brief yet meaningful kiss. The excitement that thrummed through the Spark caused the mountain ash to dissipate. However, instead of completely disappearing, as it usually did, the wind picked up to take it, causing the werewolves to cough and choke. Derek smiled as he pulled back, leaving his forehead resting on Stiles’.

“We’re going to have to work on that,” he mused.

Stiles smiled back at him, closing his eyes as he responded with an affirmative. After a moment they separated, Derek’s strong hand never leaving the small of his back. The weight of his hand was grounding, keeping Stiles from spiraling into the panic attack that was building every second they kept standing there in that clearing.

“I suppose you’d like us out of your territory, then.”

“That would be great,” Liam snapped.

Derek watched the youngest Beta patiently, but said nothing. James’ betrayed look wrenched through Stiles, guilt sweeping over him, coupled with the sadness of losing a friend. He gripped Derek’s hand tighter, clenching his jaw and refusing to let himself cry. Not here, at least.

It was only when Lucille turned away that Derek spoke.

“Wait,” Scott let a low growl out but Derek said it again, “wait.”

Lucille met his eyes, her and Tom mirroring Stiles and Derek’s position. Derek looked at Stiles before continuing.

“You said that Stiles was a friend of your pack.”

“Der,” Stiles muttered in disbelief.

“Is this true?”  
  
“Yes,” Lucille’s strong voice answered.

“Even now?”

Lucille’s eyes flickered to James, who hesitated, but then nodded once, and then back to Derek’s, “Even now.”

“Then I would like to consider an alliance.”

“Derek,” Scott’s voice came from beside him.

“I said consider,” he turned to his second, “We will all get a vote.” He turned back to Lucille and amended his statement, “It’s either an alliance. Alongside the promise that you will never hurt Stiles--”

“We would never hurt Stiles!” James spat.

Derek and Lucille both flashed their eyes at him for interrupting an Alpha. The boy slouched in on himself, his amber eyes illuminating in apology. Derek silently accepted it by continuing, “Alongside the promise that you will never hurt Stiles and will protect him as if he was one of yours... _that_ ...or you leave Beacon Hills...you leave _California_ and you never return unless it’s for _my_ explicit permission.”

His voice had dropped low, it in between his beta shifted voice and his human one. Stiles didn’t have to look to know his eyes were bleeding red as well. He found himself rubbing small circles into Derek’s hand with his thumb, trying to calm his Alpha, even just a little.

They watched as Lucille and Tom had a silent conversation that only the two of them could understand, every second longer agony, before turning back towards The Hales.

“James is right. We would never hurt Stiles,” she paused, “We hope that you’ll allow us time to think it over.”

Derek nodded, “Of course. Will a week be enough?”

“More than.”

Derek nodded, “We’ll meet back here--”  
  
“No,” Stiles piped up, “No. I am not doing this again. The local coffee shop. On Barber Street. No maiming or killing allowed.”

Derek swung his gaze from Stiles to Lucille to gage her reaction. Her stagnant look of _pure Alpha_ hadn’t wavered, but now it was joined by something that looked like complete and utter fondness. And Derek knew he had made the right decision in “trusting them”...enlisting in their help. The two Alphas nodded at each other in agreement before the both packs, at the same time, took off in their separate directions.

Derek followed Stiles to his jeep, instructing the others to go home for the night and meet up at the Loft tomorrow after school. Derek slid into the driver’s seat and shoved his phone into Stiles’ hands.  
  
“Call your Dad.”

He ran his fingers through his hair as he dialed the well known number into the keypad with his shaking hands. As he lifted the phone to his ear he felt the adrenaline draining, all while leaving his heart pounding and head spinning. He barely registered the weight of a hand on the back of his neck until he was slowly leaning into the touch.

His father answered on the third ring.

“Stiles? Stiles!” Came is frantic voice, “Where the hell are you? Are you okay?”

Stiles tipped his head back, eyes closed as he started to breath a little easier, “Yeah Dad. I’m okay. Everything’s fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So?? Sorry, I'm not the best at writing action (if you have any pointers/tips please let me in on the secret). And that Sterek kiss? Mm mm mm. I didn't want to make it too dramatic since their relationship in this fic has kind of been developing pretty slowly and carefully. But there will be more of that. That I can promise.
> 
> I bet you guys think that this is the end...nope! We still have one more major plot line to explore!!  
> All your questions WILL be answered. So stay tuned!  
> I did kind of toy with ending it here but I've had this one idea in my mind that this fic has been leading up to...besides I kind of hate ambiguous endings....
> 
> As always, prompts are open. And, I've just started resuing my fandom twitter: @shale00 if you guys are interested in following!
> 
> Come visit me in the comments & let me know what you think! Pretty please? I'm desperate. I'm going to need them to feed on during midterms. Coffee & Redbull are getting a bit dull on their own.
> 
> midnight x


	15. Derek vs Stiles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ( ˘ ³˘)♥ + angsty angst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, so suuuuper short chapter. Just because the next one is where all the fun begins...again. Plus, I figured I'd start producing whatever I write as soon as I'm finished with it so there's more connect with us.
> 
> This one's on the sweeter side of things. No maiming or disfiguring, so that's good. We do get a Sterek scene and a PackMom!Stiles scene (if you squint and have astigmatism).
> 
> Also, do you think we can get this thing to 200 comments? It might be a stretch, but that would be literally so amazing. Like, 11k poor souls have already read through this gigantic mess of a fic, I mean, they may as well complain about it to me (via comment section) amiright? 
> 
> I'm also updating this at 4:07am bc I am trash, but you all already knew that.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you liiiike it!!

They met at Deaton’s. 

The man was out of town, thank God. He gave Stiles the creeps. Like Creep-o Level 5000.  
  
Jackson and Scott were the worst of them and Stiles wasted no time in sitting them down on the metal tables and digging around Deaton’s vials and bottles, deciphering between dog medicine and werewolf medicine. The fact that the man kept the two stashed together gave Stiles  _ so much joy _ .  
Once rubbed some salve on the wounds that were taking longer than usual to heal and put everything away, it was well past 2am. He looked around at the remaining pack--Erica, Boyd, Isaac, Liam and Derek--all tired and tense from the full moon’s energy.

“Why don’t we all go home and move the pack meeting up a day? We can have it at my house. I’ll order pizza.”  
  
“Sounds good to me, Batman,” Erica smiled, hopping off the table where she had hoisted herself up next to Jackson.

“Me too. I have Chemistry homework. Harris is going to have my ass,” Isaac lamented.

Stiles nodded and watched them start to gather their things before turning to head towards the back room to put back the bandages Deaton kept. The shuffling from the front room grew louder again and he turned to see that Derek had followed him. 

It was like a dejavu. The sandbags, the pale walls, the artificial light. It immediately brought him back to Sophomore Year when Derek had first stumbled into his life and not even a week later wanted his  _ arm chopped off _ . Well...that’s not exactly how it went, but close enough.

Oddly enough, the memory didn’t soothe him. Actually, he was pretty sure he was omitting absolute rage. He reached up, standing on his toes to reach the top shelf to stash the bandages away, turning back around at the sound of his name in a soft voice. He headed for the door, intending to ignore the Alpha, but there he was, an arms length away and Stiles couldn’t help himself.

He raised a fist and punched Derek in the face.

The werewolf, obviously surprised, stumbled, using both his hands to grab onto Stiles’ elbows to brace himself. 

“Fuck,” Stiles swore, cradling his fist to his mouth, because Derek’s face was made with like adamantium or some shit.

He immediately felt Derek draining the pain from him and suddenly he wanted to cry. Stiles had just  _ punched him in the face _ and he was taking his pain? Who  _ does _ that? He refused to let himself get sidetracked though.

“What the hell was that, Stiles?” Derek nearly growled, finally releasing him, but made no move to distance himself.

“You lied, Derek. _Again._ ” He scoffed, taking a step around him.

The wolf grabbed his arm, “What are you talking about?”

“You. Lied.”

They stood there for a moment, still too close to be considered normal as Derek’s eyes flitted across every inch of his face as if trying to commit it to memory. A few long seconds passed before realization crossed Derek’s expression. 

He raised an eyebrow, “What?  _ This _ ? I didn’t know this was going to happen.”

“Hard to believe when you and everyone else have been ducking my calls all weekend. Sound familiar?” He gritted.

Derek sighed and let go of his hold on Stiles’ shirt, “I didn’t know. I swear. Jackson told me about James’ challenge in the locker room. We were going to talk it over at the pack meeting on Thursday. But we ran into them in the woods. Scott and Jackson got too close and they attacked.”

“Derek. One lie is enough.”  
  
“Stiles,” he grumbled.

“Derek, you’ve lied to me before.”  
  
“Yes and what conclusion did we come to about keeping secrets from each other?”  
  
“Not to.”  
  
“Exactly.”

“I...”  
  
“Do you trust me?”

He paused, “...I don’t know Derek.”

He could see the way his face shattered. Guilt shot through him. But they had promised no lies and no secrets and saying ‘of course’, as he had initially wanted to, would have  _ been  _ a lie. There was a weighted silence. Stiles could hear his heart thumping and his blood rushing through his ears. His adrenaline was finally crashing and he could feel it.

“Could... _ could  _ you trust me?” His voice was so small and so broken.

Stiles nodded earnestly, “Yeah. I did. And I will. But right now...I don’t know Derek.”

Another silence. This time Stiles was the one to break it.

“How did Laurel know, then?”

Derek’s eyes flung to his, “I don’t know. They may have known they were going to fight, but we didn’t.”

Stiles hummed.

“Look. I know I’m not the brightest, but please give me some credit.”  
  
“Derek, what--”

“We didn’t even have the full pack. Malia, Peter, Chris, Allison,  _ You _ . Do you really think that I’d take on an enemy of any size without my full pack there?”

Stiles bit his lip, because no, no he wouldn't.

“I promise, Stiles. When I swore to you there would be no more secrets, I meant no more secrets. I don’t just say shit for the sake of saying it. I meant every word.”

The boy slowly nodded his head after a minute. Seeming to take this as an acceptance, Derek took another step forward, closing the small gap between them and engulfing the boy in his arms. They stayed there like that for a long minute, warm body against warm body, before Stiles pulled back a bit, just so he could see Derek’s face. The wolf kept his arms circled around Stiles’ waist, hesitant to let go. Stiles’ long fingers came up to caress Derek’s cheek, turning it slightly to see where exactly he had punched him. Not that it mattered anymore. Stupid werewolf healing.

“Sorry I hit you,” he murmured quietly.

From there, Derek’s sad eyes immediately found his mouth. Stiles leaned in just enough for Derek to take the hint and crane his neck down just so to close the distance. Derek’s grip tightened on his waist and Stiles’ other hand fisted a part of Derek’s shirt under his jacket. Their lips moved together effortlessly, as if they’d been doing it for years. And in Stiles’s dreams, sure, but this was the real thing and they just fit together so perfectly it was unreal.

When Stiles nearly died from asphyxiation, they parted lips but kept their noses on each other's faces, Derek nuzzling Stiles’ jaw and Stiles’ resting on Derek’s forehead.

“At least tell me this,” Stiles’ voice cracked. He swallowed and tried again, “isn’t a lie.”

Derek reeled back as if he’d been hit (...again). This time he took Stiles’ face in both his hands and pressed a desperate kiss, one right after the other, to his lips, trying to communicate everything he couldn’t say. Stiles had subconsciously grab ahold of Derek’s wrists before kissing back. It was only when he felt his shoulders hit the wall that he let out a huff of laughter--because walls and Derek went hand in hand--that they had to stop.

“No more lies. No more secrets. This,” Derek pleaded, “is the truest thing I’ve ever had. You have to believe that.”

Stiles studied Derek’s galaxy eyes and when he neglected to answer, Derek spoke again,  “Stiles? You have to believe that.”

“I do.”

And he did. He really, really--

“Great,” a voice came from the doorway, startling them, “if you two are done making out, some of us have homework to do.”

“And a curfew,” Liam piped up from behind the lanky blonde.

Derek growled at the interruption, but Stiles just snorted and dropped his forehead down onto Derek’s shoulder, “Yeah we’re coming."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo? Whatja think??
> 
> I just wanted to thank all of you who have been here since Chapter 1 for your continued support through all of this. The piece wouldn't exist if it were not for you. AND for all of those who have joined us on this little journey and stuck with it, you people give me the inspiration to keep writing, so thank you.
> 
>  
> 
> Now, for all you angst-loving fiends out there, I'll shamelessly put a link here to:
> 
> My newest work 'Suspicious Minds' >> http://archiveofourown.org/works/8448943  
> & My personal favorite 'Stilinski Hale Publishing Co' >> http://archiveofourown.org/works/6525484
> 
> As always, prompts are open on my Tumblr "midnightcas" and I would love for y'all to stop by and say hey.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Come visit me in the comments (they're love).


	16. Rockies vs Brewers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "A pack divided cannot stand...it will become all one thing or all the other."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!  
> Sorry for the long wait, but this is (I think) the longest chapter yet. Approximately 5k words of arguments, pizza & cuddles. It could even be it's own fic. I'm not making any excuses, but I was on holiday. I had some major anxiety about seeing some of my family members after this election and things have kind of just been up in the air, etc.  
> Oh, Happy (Belated) Thanksgiving by the way!!  
> I hope you guys enjoy this installment. Finishing it was a bitch btw, this group of girls were practically yelling in the library next to me (ugh...if you're this kind of person, don't be).  
> Anyways, thanks for coming back for me!  
> Lots of Love & Lots of Sterek

The next day was...fairly tamely. There were no huge threats, no growling in the halls, no tension so thick that Stiles was choking on it. Both packs remained somewhat quiet, even. Hushing when they sensed one another in the halls, keeping a polite distance, etc.

After school they all skipped lacrosse and headed to Stiles’ house. Derek was already there, watching the Rockies play the Brewers with John. He offered a small nod as they pack piled in around him.

Isaac jumped to sit next to his Alpha, leaving Stiles to squeeze in between them, making it so that he was practically on their laps. Boyd sat thigh to thigh with Isaac, which didn’t leave even an inch of space for any of them to move if they wanted to. Erica sat in between Boyd’s legs on the ground, leaning against the couch with Allison sitting next to her, Scott following. Jackson and Lydia took the loveseat, leaving Malia, Kira and Liam to sprawl across the floor on their stomachs and backs, watching the game as well.

It all unfolded so seamlessly in front of Stiles, making his heart warm. He was just about to get up and start the meeting when Derek’s heavy arm wrapped around his shoulders to keep him there.

“Give it a few minutes,” he whispered into his temple.

He nodded and reached up to grab the Alpha’s hand. He gave it a squeeze and craned his neck down to kiss his knuckles, “Okay.”

And if John had seen, he had given no implication.

 

“No way,” Jackson growled, his eyes flashing blue.

The bliss didn’t last long.

“I agree with Jackson,” Allison said from where she stood, arms crossed, “After everything it’s too risky.”

Scott nodded along.

“No way in hell.” Erica.

“They threatened Stiles.”

“We all used to threaten Stiles.”

More growling.

“Listen,” Derek tried, but his pack erupted into arguments.

After a second or two the Alpha let out a roar of frustration, resulting in a chorus of flashed eyes and cowering figures. Lydia just ‘hmph’d’ while The Sheriff tried to hide his amused smile.

“They weren’t the ones who threatened Stiles.”  
  
“What do you mean,” Scott asked.

“I _mean_ , they all seemed genuinely surprised when he manipulated the mountain ash and--”  
  
“Anyone can act surprised, Derek,” John pointed out.

“No. It--”

Lydia suddenly stood, “If they really had intended to harm Stiles they would have by now.”  
  
“What about your ‘long game’ theory?” Kira asked, picking at a rip in her jeans.

“Theories are changeable,” she huffed as she straightened out her dress and tossed her hair before elaborating, “They had all of those opportunities. They had Stiles’ trust and had enough of it that he even considered joining their pack. They would have struck by now. And I think they would have fought you that night if they honestly intended to try to take him to use. I think they just wanted him for part of the pack. But like Derek said, I don’t think it was because he’s a spark.”  
  
“He did say that they wanted Stiles before they knew he knew about werewolves,” Boyd pointed out, “nothing about before they knew about what he was.”

“That’s true,” Isaac pointed out, “And they genuinely seemed like they would protect him.”

“They weren’t lying when they said they’d never hurt him,” Derek agreed.

“I don’t think this is our threat then,” Lydia concluded.

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea,” Jackson snarled, “why take the risk?”

“Because it’s not a risk,” Derek sighed.

Jackson straight out growled now, “How could you say that? You’d willingly leave Stiles alone with them? With James? After everything? They almost attacked us in _our_ territory. They didn’t even ask permission to live here and they’d been here for what? Almost two years now? They kept their scents hidden and they tried to take our pack. How the hell could you put us...how could you put _Stiles_ at risk like that?”

Derek paused for a moment and the room flinched. They readied themselves for a yell or a snarl or a something violent. Instead Derek just looked at his beta and replied in a low voice.

“Jackson, I am the last person you need to be worried about when it comes to keeping Stiles safe.”

The room silenced in anticipation, but John was the next one to speak.

“Alright, everybody just calm down, alright? Now, let’s order the pizza and take a second to breath. The furniture is old but expensive and I would really rather not have to explain to Ms. Jinkins the broken windows and wild dogs.”

Everyone seemed to deflate at once at the cost of a light hearted joke and the promise of food. Stiles practically beamed at his father as he scrabbled from his spot on the couch to the kitchen. After the order was placed the discussion began again, this time with the Sheriff mediating.

“We’re going around the room,” he had demanded.

It came to a six-six vote, which of course brought upon even more arguing. John and Derek had both voted to ‘trust them’ (alone with Kira, Isaac, Boyd and Lydia, which absolutely enraged Scott and Jackson (and Liam, Allison, Malia and Erica).

“What if you’re wrong?”

“John and Derek both agree it’s okay, I don’t think--”  
  
“You don’t think? You were the one who thought it was them in the first place!”  
  
“It’s not _my_ fault I was the only one that actually took enough time to think everything through instead of sucking Allison’s face off!”  
  
“Lydia!” Allison scolded.

“None of you can think, can you? You all just run around in the forest and think you’re all tough but as soon as a threat happens you run away scared. It’s all emotion and no logical thoughts--”  
  
“Okay Spock.”

“--none of you can think for yourselves.”  
  
“That’s enough.”

“You don’t know anything, you idiot human,” Malia hissed, eyes flashing.

“What?”  
  
Kira grabbed for Lydia’s arm as she started towards the coyote, while Erica merely snorted and readied herself for the entertainment. Jackson had stood with the Banshee, his own eyes glowing and claws drawn.

“Jesus Christ,” John muttered into the palm of his hand while the others jumped to their feet in anticipation.

It looked like Malia was about to launch herself off the loveseat when the doorbell rang. They stilled.

Stiles sighed, “No one move. No one _breathe,_ ” he warned as he went to answer the door and pay for the pizzas.

He returned to Lydia and Malia on separate sides of the room and angry pouts on everyone else's’ faces. Isaac perked up when he saw the pizza. Stiles caught his gaze and set the pies down on the table.

“No,” he growled.

“What?” Lydia asked, her voice still snappish from her earlier argument.

“You all want to fight over what happens to me... _again_. And none of you have asked what it is I think of the situation. It’s my choice, isn’t it?”

“It’s a pack choice,” Derek started hesitantly.

“About me.”

“About trusting another pack.”

“But I’m the deciding vote?”

Jackson looks at him hardly before his eyes flicker to Derek when he speaks, “I--I guess so.”

“I trust them. I think we should all should. It won’t come overnight but I think we need to give them the opportunity.”  
  
“Why?” Scott bites out, “They threatened you Stiles.”  
  
“I don’t think they did. I think Lydia’s right,” she humphed happily, but Stiles ignored her, “I was in their den. I’ve been with them alone. Not a single one of them even attempted to hurt me in anyway. And they didn’t even know I was connected to the supernatural. Why would you threaten someone completely unrelated?”  
  
“They could have still made the threat, just not directly at Stiles. Like we originally thought. What happens if that’s true and they find out?” Allison points out.

“If they enter the treaty they wouldn’t be able to hurt him.”

“People have broken treaties before, Derek,” John points out, now nervous at further examination.

“But then they would have every pack allied with us at their throats in two seconds flat.”

“I don’t know Derek,” Jackson sneers, “I’d like to avoid avenging Stiles’ death by avoid him dying in the first place.”  
  
“It’s still my vote,” Stiles reminds them, “This is a vote about trust, yeah? And I trust them not to hurt me. And not to break treaty. Lucille’s smart.”  
  
“Alpha Grey.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Get used to calling her Alpha Grey in your head. When we have this meeting you’ll have to call her that. If you don’t it’s blatant disrespect.”

“Mm,” he acknowledged, “ _Alpha_   _Grey_ is smart. She wouldn’t risk breaking a treaty if it put her pack at danger. Her own son would be at risk.”

“So?” Malia asks, playing with her sock, already half shifted into her coyote. She was getting restless, as she usually did after long periods of being in her human form.

“So? I vote yes. And that’s seven to six. So we eat then we’ll get everyone on the same page for Tuesday.”

There was a silent agreement. In twenty minutes three pizzas were gone and the fourth was on its way. Stiles leaned against Derek on the couch taking in the pack-- _his_ pack. The warmth of family settled in him as he watched his Dad ruffle Erica’s hair as he passed, distracting her from her self created game of seeing how many things she could put in Isaac’s hair before he noticed. She smiled up at him and Stiles knew he had made the right choice.

 

Tuesday came fast.

He spent the week in rigid anticipation. It had taken work...a lot of work, to get the others to see it their way. Jackson was, unsurprisingly, the most difficult to convince. But Derek had taken him outside and apparently explained it in “I’m-a-broody-muscley-guy-that-doesn’t-do-feelings-and-uses-too-much-hair-product” terms because ten minutes later he came in and was a lot more...agreeable. When Stiles had thrown Derek a questioning look, the Alpha just brushed it off with a shrug and reached for Stiles’ trembling hand.

Between a series of texts between he and Laurel, the two packs decided to meet at the coffee shop that night at five. John did his best to keep police presence around the area just in case and all of the humans were armed with wolfsbane (Chris and Allison with their concealed weapons).Stiles felt the anxiety like a physical force constricting his lungs all day. He had only fully been able to relax when he had gotten home and forced Derek to cuddle him in his arms for a few minutes before the rest of the pack showed up. But after that, the anxiety was back, tenfold. He wasn’t the only one though. He could tell by how his Dad kept resting his hand on his holster and how Derek seemed to always have one hand on him or how Lydia kept running her tongue over her top teeth.

He could only imagine what it _smelt_ like.

 

_“Tangy,” Derek had tried to explain it to him once, “Sadness smells kind of like vanilla. It’s heavy. Attraction smells like peppermint or...um, kind of like cilantro? But kind of...brighter? Happiness always smells like spring does, like a nose full of daisies or dandelions or some other flower. Anxiety is bitter, though, like how a lemon tastes and fear...fear smells musty, but sharper.”_

_Admittedly, he hadn’t really thought much about the conversation until now. They had been half asleep, lying together in Stiles’ bed. It had been another day of just trying to get by and only being able to find solace in each other (Stiles loved it, honestly--that he was the only one Derek could be calm around...he knew how it felt too, because he felt the same way around him. Beacon Hills had been ripping full force through them, testing the pack at every rounded corner. He was still shaky and plagued with nightmares from everything with the Nogitsune and Theo and he knew Derek was still over analyzing the whole throw down with the Dread Doctors and Kate. They had become scarily codependant over the past week. But as nice as it was, he hoped that after this whole mess blew over they could work on being okay by themselves, too.). The main goal of that conversation had  been to get Derek to admit what Stiles smelt like._

_“Unique. And sometimes like Doritos.”_ _  
_

_Stiles had snorted, “I’m serious. This is your fault anyway, you’re always sniffing me and it made me curious. Don’t give me that look, I can tell when you’re smelling me.”_

_Derek looked down at where Stiles’ head was cradled between his arm and chest thoughtfully before answering._

_“You...you smell like it does a few hours before it rains,_ _” he leaned in to sniff Stiles’ throat, making the boy drop his head back and run his fingers through dark hair, “and...like the laundry detergent my mom used to use. I could never find the brand after she died, she had claimed it was was secret family recipe, but I had always just assumed she was lying,” he murmured, but didn’t stop, “When you’re close you smell like a burning scentless candle, like how the flame smells, it's hard to explain. And when you’re calm...you smell like Laura’s shampoo.”_

 _Derek pulled back but Stiles followed and leaned to kiss him sweetly, because he could--apparently that was a thing he could do now. The small touches, openly staring, kissing, hugging..._ kissing _._

 _Sure he had always known he and Derek had this kind of unbreakable bond between them, which was why, Stiles supposed he let himself argue with the man so frequently (he knew Derek wouldn't be runing for the hills when faced with resistance, even if it was a lot and even if it was from Stiles)._ _He had always_ known _to trust Derek, like it was biologically programmed. Even before they were "frenemies" Stiles knew he was supposed to trust him. In the hospital, the pool, the police station (twice), with Danny, at the school, etc. Maybe Stiles hadn’t always given Derek the benefit of the doubt (aka getting him arrested and...a solid handful of other times), but there had always been a blanket of safety that made its way around him when Derek was near._

 _He very barely resisted making a joke about scents and how fucking strange this conversation was (but he supposed he better get used to relationship anomalies, especially if he was dating (dating?) a werewolf) and that all_ he _smelled was dirty socks, because popular to contrary belief, Stiles wasn’t that great with feelings either (he blamed society), but he understood the weight of the confession and tried to, at least a little bit, return the favor._

 _“You smell a little like soft leather. Not like the gross kind, but subtle? And valinin. You know, like old books? And dark roast coffee. And...I don’t know, you smell like_ Derek _.”_

_The alpha had given him one of his rare smiles and brought their lips together to meet again, carefully cradling Stiles’ jaw with his free hand._

_They talked about required scents after, like how Stiles usually smelled like the Sheriff's station or the locker room (which, ew) and how before he just smelled like Scott and Harley, but how now he smelled like Pack and like Derek. And that statement alone, apparently, made him feel some type of way because the Alpha smirked before leaning down to whisper that Stiles had basically become the embodiment of a candy cane in .2 seconds flat. Stiles barked out a laugh and buried himself deeper into Derek’s side just to make a point._

_“I’m surprised I don’t always smell like Christmas when I’m around you then, Sourwolf.” He grinned before settling into silence and falling into sleep held in the werewolf’s arms._

 

He had made a mental note to bug Derek for more information about scents later, but in the long days since he seemed to have forgotten. A few hours later he found himself driving Allison, Scott, Malia and Liam to the coffee shop in town, trailed by an SUV, a porsche, a police cruiser and a sleek black camaro. He parked a good distance away and let out a shaky breath. He had never made an alliance like this before. What if he broke werewolf etiquette? What if James and Lucille decided that they didn’t even _want_ to ally with them? What if this was the declaration of an actual pack war? What if people died? What if _Stiles_ died? What if he--

He was pulled back to the present with Liam’s heavy hand on his shoulder.

“Are you okay?”

“I...fine. Why?”  
  
“Because you’re kind of freaking out.”  
  
He reddened, “I am not!”

He sounded petulant, even to his own ears, but that was the least of his worries at the moment. “Uh, you kinda are.”

He must have been actually freaking the fuck out based on Derek’s confused/alarmed face from across the parking lot.

“I’m fine,” he confirmed, “just nervous.”

It was more of a statement to Derek than to Liam, but the younger boy seemed just fine with it and followed Scott’s lead of climbing from the jeep. Stiles shook himself out and joined the others that had congregated outside the doors. The Grey Pack was already inside, based on everybody’s tense stances.

Apparently, Derek, Stiles, Scott, Lydia, Boyd and Chris would be the ones actually going in and negotiating the thing. Lucille would have Tom, her Alpha Elect (which was James), her second, and two others. Stiles’ father and Deaton would appear as neutral parties and would ‘moderate’. The rest of the pack would be close by just in case anything went south. Before they walked in, Derek took both of Stiles’ hands together and gave them a reassuring squeeze.

“It’ll be alright.”

He nodded and let out one last anxious breath before stealing himself into the calm force that Derek needed him to be. Because while Derek never showed it, Stiles knew that their energies worked off each other, the more anxious Stiles got, the more unsettled Derek was. And right now, their Alpha needed to be level headed and calm. Derek was the only one who had done this before. He knew what to look out for, what was considered disrespectful, what was invalid, wrong and all the red flags. And if he was distracted on Stiles’ unbalanced spiraling emotions, there was a possibility he would miss something and while Stiles trusted the Grey’s, he couldn’t be sure they wouldn’t take advantage of any unfocus. Of course, Stiles could be (probably was) over preparing, but he’d learned, especially in the last few years or so, that it was better to be underwhelmed than overwhelmed.

Well, he thought to himself, here goes nothing.

 

Lucille stood with Tom on her right and James on her left. The Hale Pack mirrored this as they stood across from them by the counter, Stiles on Derek’s right, across from James, and Scott across from Tom. Everyone was sterned face and tense until Lucille spoke.

“I ordered you one of your caramel lattes, pumpkin,” she smiled at Stiles, “James knew what you liked,” Stiles couldn’t help but swing his eyes up to James who was picking at the skin around his thumb nails, clearly nervous, “Alpha Hale, I hope you find no disrespect. If you or your pack would like anything, we’d be happy to cover it.”

“No disrespect,” Derek assured her, nodding at Stiles to go to the counter to the waiting latte on the counter.  
  
As he walked by, Derek let his hand skim possessively over his hip. Stiles knew it was a power play, a way to signify that Stiles was _his_ , but he didn’t expect James’s eyes to light up at it, nor the low warning growl that came from Boyd or the fact that Chris was already reaching for his gun. The group of them stilled Stiles could feel the atmosphere tense and no. No, no, no. Not today. He wanted to get this wrapped and tied up in a pretty bow by precisely six o’clock pm. He waved at Boyd to back off and wrapped his fingers around Derek’s in a warning way.

“Let’s find a place to talk, first,” he suggested, nearly shoving Scott and Derek towards the back corner of the shop and the others followed. They stood around the table Stiles brought them to, the harsh silence settled once more, eyeing both the object and the opposite pack suspiciously.

“It’s a table,” he said, “relax.”

He grabbed Boyd’s shoulders and forced him down in the booth. He gave the massive man a small squeeze for letting himself be manhandled so easily (because could you say _embarrassed_ if he had put up even the bitsiest fight).

“Now. Sit down. And talk. Like grown adults. Not cavemen.”  
  
“Your latte,” a middle aged man with grey blue eyes and dark hair reminded, not in a kind way.

“I appreciate it, but right now’s not the time for a coffee date.”

“Stiles,” Derek said stiffly beside him.

“What?”

“Get the drink.”

“But--”  
  
“It’s an offering. It would be rude not to accept it.”

He paled.

“I--I’m so sorry Lu--Alpha Grey I didn’t know!”

She smiled kindly at him, “It’s alright Stiles, I know. Go ahead, James said you liked extra caramel and whipped cream.”

He let himself relax into a smile, “Thank you.”

He had to remember, this was _Lucille._ The woman who made you pancakes and fights with her husband and son over the cooking channel and makes like, the best chicken marinade ever. It would be fine. It all would be fine.

By the time he flopped down next to Derek, the atmosphere was more tame. It seemed that Stiles’ mistake and Derek’s immediate dismissal of something that _could_ have been seen as blatant disrespect, had removed the staggering formality of this whole thing and allowed for them to realz. At least just a little bit.

Derek spoke first, “The offer still stands to ally your pack with ours.”

Alliances were not easily broken, Chris had explained to him earlier. They were binding for years to come. Two Alpha’s who ally themselves together may never break said alliance unless one Alpha is killed. If the death is natural, the Alpha elect may not break the alliance. The alliance may not be dissolved unless one of the moderator or the moderator’s next of kin is present and there is, of course, probable cause. This was kind of a big deal. Like, a really big deal. Stiles took a sip of his latte.

“We have all talked it over. We accept your offer, but only if certain conditions are met.”

Derek paused for a while, “I’m listening.”  
  
“We meet once a month for debriefing. Assuming you will be letting us stay in our current home, I see it to be be beneficial that we know what’s going on at all times.”

“I agree.”

“I’m not asking for a dualpackship--”  
  
“As I wouldn’t grant one.”

Lucille nods, “But, we hope that you would allow Stiles to spend time with our pack as before.”

Derek looks at her for a long moment before turning to look at Stiles.

“Stiles is his own person. He is free to do what he wishes. However, he is part of the Hale Pack. I don’t want lines getting crossed or messages to be misunderstood.”  
  
“Understood.”

“Anything else?”

“Just that my full pack is treated kindly and with civility.”  
  
“Of course. That’s not even up for discussion.”

She allowed a smile, “I’m aware there is some...discomfort between our two packs. I’m just warning you that the first few months may take some time for everyone to get used to. I want to apologize in advance for any disrespect my pack may show. They are all, for the most part, bitten. They haven’t grown up with the customs and culture that you and I have, Alpha Hale. I will try to educate them, but I cannot promise--”

Derek held up a hand, “There’s no need to apologize for future mistakes. Most of my pack is bitten as well. I’m not a dictator here. You all may live as you want to and as you were. The obvious rules still apply: no exposure, do not hurt a human, do not engage in a fight with hunters unless they strike first. The same civility that you hope will be given to you pack is the same civility that I expect for you to extend to mine. We’ll work as we go. If you are extremely anxious, we could have a hard copy written.”  
  
“There’s no need,” she smiled again, “I look forward to working with you, Alpha Hale. You seem to know what you’re doing. You most definitely take after your Mother. You have already earned the same respect I held for her. And I must confess, that is a feat in itself.”

Derek nodded sternly and held out a hand, “Derek.”

It was an announcement, a sign of mutual respect and friendship, allowing another Alpha, another _pack_ to call you by your first name. Stiles found himself holding his breath and clutching at his latte until Alpha Grey spoke.  
  
“Lucille.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was it?  
> I loved the scent scene between Stiles & Derek, I thought we need a little fluff between all the bickering and 'tense' scenes....I used that word a total of like 5 times this entire fic and 3 of them were used in this chapter alone.  
> Can you say "lazy writing"? Because I can.
> 
> But that's just kind of how I'd imagine the two would smell to eachother, like stability, family and home. F e e l s ~
> 
> Well, dreaded F I N A L S are 'finally' upon us. So there'll probably be a bit of a gap between here and Chapter 17, but I already have an idea of what the next chapter will contain & I promise, I will return!
> 
> I'd love to know what your favorite parts so far have been or anything like that. Comments are love, so come say hi! (Please??)
> 
> Wish me luck...I'm going to need it.
> 
> Lots of Love,  
> midnight x


	17. Top of the Ninth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The packs tie everything up and then...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have returned from the depths of hell my friends. Welcome back. Sorry about the delay. It's been a solid two months or so (ew). But I'm back and have finished outlining the rest of the fic. So chapters will be posted pretty timely from now on. I hope you guys haven't lost interest! That would really suck.
> 
> Anyway, here's Chapter 17. There's a little time jump in here that should be fairly obvious, as I say it, but if there's any confusion please let me know & I'll fix it. Also, here's a reminder that THERE ARE PROBABLY ALWAYS SPOILERS IN THE END NOTES AND THE COMMENTS SO READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. 
> 
> See you soon~  
> Lots of Love x

In the end they _did_ end up drawing up a hard copy of their agreement upon Deaton’s request. The two groups left the cafe immediately, leaving behind a handful of curious and confused employees and customers. Having drawn a truce, most of the tension between the groups subsided. There was still an air of distrust and caution, but Stiles didn’t have the feeling that the packs would jump each other at one wrong look. They all crammed into the clinic, one by one, until Lucille got anxious and snapped for a good portion of her pack to return home. Derek followed suit, sending everyone but he and Lydia home. Stiles had a suspicion that it had been an act of good faith, and couldn’t help his pride. As the grownups did their grownup stuff, Stiles slid into the back. He needed a second to wrap his head around things. Needed a second to breathe.

No one was going to die. They had an _alliance_. The packs would protect each other. No one was dying. There was no war. No violence. No more bloodshed. He worked to calm himself down, but couldn’t help the self conscience body flinch when the door slid open.

“Hey.”  
  
“Hey.”

 

Derek watched wearily as Stiles excused himself and disappeared into the backroom. He would have rather had Stiles by his side, but he recognized a sign of trust not to fuck up when he saw one. Knowing that his partner had faith in his skills made his wolf preen a bit, pleasure covering his disappointment. That is, until he caught James’ eye. The young man stiffened, but the smell of pure affection and attraction didn’t dissipate. Derek’s eyes flashed, but he held his growl in the back of his throat. He let out a deep breath.

“James,” he said calmly, voice measured and emotions masked, “Can I talk to you for a second?”

Tom looked between them for a second nervously.

“I won’t hurt him. I promise. If I do you have my permission to trash the entire agreement.”

Lucille gave a curt nod before she turned her attention back to Lydia and Deaton hanging over the document. The sweet smell of attraction quickly turned sour with angst and nerves. Derek only led the boy into Deaton’s office for the illusion of privacy. He shut the door and turned towards him. But before he could speak James started.

“Look. I know you and Stiles are like a _thing_ , okay? And I know you’re an Alpha and I’d be an idiot to challenge you. My Mom already talked to me about this. I don’t _mean_ to do it, it’s just...I can’t help it.”

Derek didn’t answer immediately. He knew James was attracted to Stiles. It had been apparent the first time Derek identified a new scent on Stiles weeks ago. He sighed.

“He’s my mate, James.”

The boy paled, shock crossing his features, “Oh.”

Derek nodded.

“I--”

He held up a hand, “I just wanted you to know.”

James nodded sadly but Derek continued, “I’m not with him out of spite. I’m with him because I love him,” Derek’s stomach twisted at hearing the words out loud. In theory, he had known, but hearing himself say it...,”I’m with him because I’m supposed to be. I’m not going to hold you accountable for your reactions. But you can’t hold me accountable for mine, either.”

He seemed to think it over for a moment before nodding, “Okay. Okay, that’s...fair.”

It was more than fair, Derek thought. A reaction as strong as James’ was, normally would have been seen as a threat to the Alpha. Derek had every right to rip his throat out or challenge him to a fight. But he knew it wasn’t intentional. He had hoped so, anyway.

Derek nodded to the back, “Go ahead.”

James’ eyes widened, “What?”  
  
“You can go see him if you want. I know he’ll want to talk to you.”

“Thank you,” he grumbled as he made his way out of the office and made a beeline towards Stiles. When Derek stepped out he was met by two grateful stares.

“Thank you,” Lucille smiled softly, “You have been very patient with us.”

Stoic as ever, Derek nodded.

“Congratulations are in order, too, I believe,” Tom said, “It’s not everyday a werewolf finds his mate.”

“What?” Lydia nearly shrieked as she turned on him.

The room of wolves immediately shrunk in on themselves.

_Oh shit._

 

James slowly made his way to sit across from Stiles, half expecting him to tell him to leave. When he didn’t, he settled a little bit more in the seat.

After a few moments of silence Stiles asked, “How’s it going out there?”

“Fine. My mom’s offering brownies and Derek’s scowling a lot.”

Stiles snorted at the thought.

“Everything’s going fine,” James amended.

“Good.”  
  
“Look--”  
  
Stiles waved him off, “It’s fine.”  
  
“It’s not fine I--”  
  
“I get it, James. There are no hard feelings between us, I--you can do the lie thing right?”  
  
“I...yeah, why?”

“Listen. There are no hard feelings between us, I swear.”

He dropped his head to a nod, “Okay. I...you either.”

Stiles gave a small grin.

“But...let me explain myself.”  
  
“James--”  
  
“I need to.”  
  
Stiles sighed and motioned for him to continue.

“I didn’t know you were in their pack. I...I never would have asked if I had known. That’s like asking for certain death. But once I got the idea in my head...my wolf--”

“How didn’t you know?”  
  
“I just thought they were your friends. By...by the time I took notice to you, you didn’t smell like pack. Here and there you did, but not strong enough. It wasn’t an unusual scent for a human friend.”

Something clouded to his brain then, but quickly dispersed. Well, he thought somewhat bitterly, his pack’s plan to get rid of scent _did_ work. He’d have to let Derek know. Wait--

“So you just...you thought that all my friends happened to be werewolves?”

He raised an eyebrow and watched James blush, “Well--I--not all of them,” he defended, “Lydia and Allison are human. Although...Allison _is_ a hunter. But we didn’t know she was directly apart of the pack. And Lydia...well we’re not entirely sure what she is but...”

Stiles allowed a small smirk, “Banshee.”  
  
“What?”  
“She’s a banshee.”  
  
James let out a thoughtful hum at that.

“So,” Stiles snorted, “you just naturally assumed that all of my friends had ties to the supernatural world and I had no idea?”  
  
James shrugged, ducking his head before meeting Stiles’ gaze, “Well you kind of _do_ attract the supernatural...if you hadn’t already figured that out.” He gestured to himself.

This time Stiles let out a full bodied chuckle and matched James’ shy smile.

“The new Superman movie is coming out this weekend. I heard it’s supposed to suck.”  
  
“It’s a Batman movie,” Stiles smirked, easily falling back into their easy banter.

“I’ll pick you up at eight?”

“Not a chance. The matinee is way cheaper.”

James grin as he stood, “I’ll buy the popcorn.”

Stiles followed him out a few moments later, sliding next to Derek and tucking his hand into the wolf’s large one. Derek kissed the top of his head and pressed against him. Both of them relaxed in each other’s presence, ignoring everybody’s knowing stares. Everything seemed to finally be falling in place.

 

The next two weeks were spent picking up the pieces. There was still a threat somewhere in Beacon Hills, but Stiles felt safer than ever. He spent his days with whoever was available, meaning a healthy mix of seeing _everyone_ . He and James’ friendship picked up right where it had left off. Easy banter, movies, board game nights, etc. However, once he returned to his pack he was immediately cuddled beyond belief. And he wasn’t complaining. Not really. Jackson had said something about scent marking and how they ‘oozed their hormones all over him’ once when he had pulled Stiles down onto the couch next to him, draping an arm over his shoulder, so he figured that ultimately that was it. Things were going well. Better than they had gone in a while. His pack was united, now. They communicated. They even had a group chat that consisted of mainly memes and puns from Scott and Stiles, but they had one, nonetheless. And now, when someone had a problem, words were used. There was a decrease in flashed teeth and glowing eyes and an increase in sentences. Like, full sentences. Full _human_ sentences.

In the two weeks alone he had watched Derek finally settle into his role as an Alpha. He was getting the hang of it, realizing that he couldn’t and didn’t have to control everything the pack did and other times he really, really should. It seemed to have taken another pack seeing Derek as a leader for his own pack to realize this as well.

Also, he and Derek were officially a _thing_ . Like a real thing. They spent their nights curled up together watching bad tv. Often times Derek would keep him company as he did homework or they’d sprawl out in Stiles’ room and work on the bestiary. They held hands and snuggled and finally allowed themselves to look at one another without dropping their gazes. There had been a lot of complaints about eyefucking and peppermint, but Stiles was too over the moon to care. His favorite thing, however, was the kissing. Derek kissed how Stiles always imagined he would. Slow and deep, passionate and open. He let his body say what his words could not. Stiles felt cherished with the way Derek cradled his head when they kissed. He felt _craved_ when the kisses turned breathless and Derek nipped at Stiles’ bottom lip or when he rolled his body. He felt needed when Derek would grab at his hand during a pack meeting, seeking grounding or guidance. He felt protected when Derek wrapped a strong arm around him and he felt loved when the wolf pressed soft kisses to his temple and forehead. He hoped that he did the same for Derek. That he took his breath away the same way Derek did to him. That he poured all of his...all of his _love_ into everything he did. Because he did...love Derek that was. He loved him more than he had loved anyone in the world. And knowing that know, feeling how deep the emotion actually was, he wondered how he had even entertained the idea of switching packs.

 

Everything was going fine. And that’s of course, when everything went to shit.

 

He was due to meet James at James’ house at six to head to the soccer game. Amanda was on the team and they promised to show to at least one of her games. When he knocked and no one answered, he let himself in. He was lounging on the couch when he felt his phone vibrate. James’ name flashed across the screen and Stiles scoffed.

“What’d you forget we had plans?” Stiles answered.

When the only answer was a scuffle, he sat up ramrod straight.

“James?”  
  
“Stiles!”

“Laurel? Laurel! What’s going on? Where’s James?”  
  
“Stiles. We need...help. Oh my god,” she sobbed.

“Where are you? Laurel?” He cried, already out the door and climbing into the jeep.

“The Preserve. By...by the clearing.”

“Okay. Call Lucille! I’m on the way.”  
  
“It’s a hunter, Stiles! He’s... _help.”_

The line went dead and Stiles’ heart raced. He instantly dialed Derek’s number there was no answer. The next call was to Scott who too didn’t pick up. He slammed his hand into the steering wheel in frustration and gave up when Lydia didn’t answer the call either.

“Fuck.”

He hoped he could talk some sense into the hunter when he got there. Use his allegiance to the Argents to his advantage. He shut off his engine and scrambled into the woods blindly. He heard a strangled cry and he ran towards it. He lost his footing then and fell to his knees. He was quick to stand, but another shriek of pain startled him. Enough so that he didn’t see the butt of a gun coming down to slam into his temple. The leaves and twigs on the ground rushed to meet him. The darks colors swirled to blackness around him. The pain in his head shot through him like a bullet until there was nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Utoh....we got some trouble. So much for the happy ending.  
> What'd you think of the James scene? Oo or the Derek & James scene?
> 
> I really hope you guys liked it. The next chapter will be posted soon.  
> You guys are usually pretty "theory heavy" so I can't wait to see what you guys come up with in the comments!!  
> Thanks so much for coming back or if you're new....welcome! Thanks for reading this far.  
> Lots of Love & Lots of Sterek xoxo
> 
> See you soon


	18. Game Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was noon the next day when he figured out Stiles was missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why didn't anyone tell me that it's nearly been a month without an update? I seriously only thought it was like a week. March is kind of a weird month anyway, so I'll blame it on that. We had a snow in the city so it finally gave me an opportunity to update~~
> 
> The fic is finally getting exciting, isn't it? Well at least I think so.  
> Warning are in the End Chapter Notes (fyi).  
> Glad to be back & I hope you guys enjoy!

Derek slams into the house, Scott and Jackson hot on his heels. Jackson barely has time to shut the door, keeping the outsiders from peering in, before Derek’s eyes are glowing and his gripping the boy by his shirt, pulling him off his lounged position on the couch.

“You _told me you wouldn’t_ hurt _him_!”

James struggled in the older man’s grip.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He breathed, panic clear in his voice.

Derek wasted no time in shoving him in the wall, “Stiles!” He demanded, eyes eerily red now, “Where’s _Stiles_ ?”  
  
“Stiles?” He asks, face paling and stomach dropping.

“Where. Is. He?”

Derek’s fangs were nearing his cheek they were so close, his grip tightened and the rumbling in his chest loudened.

“I--I don’t know.”

Without warning the Alpha dropped him to the ground, causing him to fall on his back gracelessly. Before he could demand answers the three wolves turned to leave, sending the clear message that James was disposable and that he would _be_ disposed _of_ if he stood in between the Alpha and his mate.

Shaking he reached for his phone. He dialled his _own_ Alpha and waited for her soothing voice to wash over the line as he listened to snippets of the men still outside his house. He cut the greeting short.

“Mom? Mom. They know. They’re heading to the preserve.”

 

It had been _hours_ . He had left Derek hanging off his lips with the promise of meeting him early for breakfast together in the loft. They had spent the day together, tangled in each other’s arms, lazing on the sofa and trading kisses and half hearted insults. At five he had gone to shower, and as much as Derek hated the thought of his mate washing off his ripe scent, he understood the concept of keeping peace between the two packs. Besides, it wasn’t like Stiles would be completely void of Derek’s scent. Between the last few weeks they had created a scent that was uniquely Stiles &Derek. And while he hadn’t had the entire mate conversation with Stiles yet, it was more than apparent that they were bonded. Even to humans. Even to the Sheriff, which was awkward enough. They had yet to have _that_ conversation either. Stiles had mentioned that he was meeting James to go see one of his pack member’s soccer games (Derek was still trying to keep track of all the new names). Derek had watched him drive off in Roscoe, a small smile gracing his lips. He too, showered and dressed himself, deciding to spend the rest of the night with Boyd and Erica.

He never got the two calls.

It was noon the next day when he figured it out. Stiles was gone. Somewhere. He checked on the routes to school, to the loft, the apartment, to the station. He called him all morning until his phone died and then he called the Sheriff. In his concern he forgot to check the most obvious spot. He drove straight to James’, Scott and Jackson with him to make sure he didn’t tear the kids head off. But in reality, they weren’t faring quite well either.

 

Stiles’ scent was in the house, but no more than just a passing and James hadn’t smelled of Stiles either. Deciding he was wasting what precious time he had, he left the boy to himself, typing out a quick message to Liam to watch the house and James.

“That was the Sheriff,” Scott informed, “They found the jeep in the preserve. The bat’s gone.”

Derek’s chest tightened but he only nodded, “Let’s go.”

They sped to the entrance and skidded to a stop where Roscoe, the police cruiser and Chris’ car were parked. The rest of the pack surrounded the jeep, expressions of confusion, concern and defeat on their faces.

“Anything?” Jackson demanded.

Isaac shook his head.

“There’s no other scent here,” Erica said, “Whatever it was, he got out willingly.”  
  
“He went that way,” Malia pointed to the right, “We wanted to wait for you, but he went that way. He was worried.”

Derek confirmed that with a inhale. Stiles _was_ worried. And distressed. He identified the tang of adrenaline that layered itself over the thick scent of nerves.

Stiles, Derek lemented in his head, why didn’t you call?

“His phone is missing,” John said suddenly.

“Couldn’t it just be with him?” Scott pointed out.

“Well, yes. But, usually, if I’m remembering correctly, he leaves it in the car before he goes out to,” he waved a hand in the general direction of the thick trees, “Says it gets distracting, or that it might go off when he’s trying to hide or something.”

“He’s right,” Lydia nodded, “It usually does stay in his glove department. Even during emergency pack meetings.”

“It’s just a point. Not anything concrete to go on but...”  
  
“It’s more that what we have, John,” Derek amended, sensing the utter desperation and helplessness coming off the man, “It’s a lot.”

John steeled, similar in fashion as his son when it was time to get down to it.

“Why don’t you go on that?” Lydia suggested, “Trace his phone, see if it leads anywhere. I’ll head to his room, see if he left anything out anywhere.”  
  
Derek nodded, “We’ll take the preserve.”

They split in a hurried fashion, Chris, Peter and Allison taking off to check any of the old hunter traps throughout. They fanned out as they began wading through the trees, following Stiles’ scent as best they could. They were about to spread out even further, going off in their own directions when Isaac stopped in his tracks, hissing at everybody to freeze. The pack seemed to know what was coming as they all took defensive positions, joining together as one big force as they readied themselves for the enemy approaching.

The Grey Pack, in its entirety folded from the shadows. Lucille’s calm presence did nothing for Derek’s wolf except rile it up even further. Scott let out a low growl but she only rose a hand.

“We want to help.”  
  
This time it was Derek who growled.  
  
He tried to get a grip on himself. Tried to imagine Stiles’ heartbeat. Imagine his smile.  
Imagine how human he was. How stupidly human he was.

“You may not trust us,” Tom said, “but we made a pact. Stiles is a friend of ours. We made a promise to protect him.”

“We can discuss our trust after, but right now Stiles needs up,” Lucille urged.

There was a tense silence in between them, but finally Derek stood taller and reeled in his pride. This way he could keep an eye on them if they were the threat. He knew the pack was on the same page when they, too relaxed a bit. They had a plan. That was the first step.

“Fine, we caught his scent over this way,” Derek said, voice gruff and low.

“One of ours is missing too.”

That made Derek stiffen even further, “Who?”  
  
“Laurel.”

“So, what? They’re taking humans of the pack?” Liam asked from beside Derek.

“Laurel’s not exactly human,” Amanda admitted.

“What do you mean?”  
  
“She’s our emissary.”

“They’re taking magic users.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Tom mused, “Stiles is only human. Was he just collateral?”

He opened his mouth to answer when a shadow hit Malia from the side and launched her into a nearby tree.  
  
She crumbled to the ground without a sound. There barely had time to process what was happening before the attack was upon them. Derek crouched to attack the figure that was wrestling with Lucille when a strong hand wrapped around his ankle and threw him back. Before the impact he watched as his pack battled back with fierceness.  
He caught sight of Chris and Allison running towards them, gun and bow and arrow drawn before he felt his neck crack and everything faded to black.

 

Stiles woke with a start.

He felt the blood, now dry and stiff on the side of his face and the bruise that encompassed more than half his forehead. He winced and hissed in pain but continued to take in his surroundings the best he could. He was surrounded by greys and blacks. Light was streaming in from...somewhere behind him, but he could turn to look. He was tied to a beam--how cliche--the ropes around his torso, keeping him upright were taught and digging into his skin. His knees burned from kneeling in the position he was in and he fidgeted to try to allow himself to at least sit, but the struggle was in vain. His hands were somewhere behind him, also tied to the large beam, and his ankles were bound as well. It was a bit excessive if you asked him.

His body was achy and his head throbbed.

Where the hell was he and why?

He was a good person, wasn’t he?

He mentally snorted at that. He was sure Derek would have had a field day with the dramatics. Speaking off...if he waited a few more hours the man would be sure to realize he was missing. Unless it was already morning and he already knew. A patch of comfort laid itself in Stiles’ chest, knowing that his friends, his pack, his... _Derek_ would be after him.

The feeling didn’t last though. A man and a woman, clothed as casually as ever for a supernatural kidnapping, made their way towards him, coming from one of the many doors hiding in the shadows. The knife in the man’s hand glimmered in the sunlight before he began to cut the ropes around Stiles’ body free. And for one second, for one naive moment, he thought that they was there to free him. But the cutting didn’t stop.

Next he cut the front of his shirt open to reveal a bruised torso, making Stiles suspect that he had not only been knocked out, but had been dragged through the woods after the fact. The man looked at him, locking gazes before starting in on his work.  
“No, no, no, no. Please,” Stiles cried, trying to wriggle away as much as possible, which wasn’t much, seeing that both his hands and feet were holding him to the banister.

The man didn’t so much as flinch as he began digging the knife into Stiles’ chest. He grunted with each turn on the knife and threw his head back as the blood made its way down in heavy sticky masses.

“Please, please, please, please, please,” he chanted as the knife dug deeper into his skin and the shape that was being created became more apparent. A single spiral. Revenge? Wasn’t that was the Alpha’s left? What was...revenge? He didn’t have the chance to finish the thought before the man pulled away and with him the knife, slicing his upper arm, deep enough for it, too, to sluggishly produce blood. Tears were in his eyes and his lip was raw from biting it. He cried out when the next symbol was drawn with the knife on his thigh. The pain washed over him as he twisted his body, starving for release, for relief, for something...something to stop. He just wanted it to _stop_. He was reduced to silent sobs by the time the man was done. His tears were too thick to see what had been carved into his skin this time, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t care. The man had finally decided that it had been enough.

The afterburn of pain coursed through his body but was cut short when both the man and the woman dropped in front of him, like their hearts had stopped working, like their strings had been cut and they had been left to fall. The grasp of pain pulled him from his thoughts. The wounds had stopped bleeding, already drying and pulling. The man, while he’d gone deep, didn’t go deep enough to induce fatal bleeding. Which at this point, Stiles nearly preferred. He willed that thought to go away before he allowed his head to loll. He was alone again. Two people lying lifeless two yards away from him. He shut his eyes and breathed. He couldn’t risk a panic attack now. He needed to be smart. For his pack, his dad. For Derek. He allowed himself one shaky breath before steeling himself.

 

There was no sign of Laurel. He had a stone heavy feeling in his chest that she was dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: There's a torturing scene [physically with a knife] towards the end.
> 
> Soo, another cliff hanger? I think so. 
> 
> Expect about....three (?) more of these in the near future. I can't show all my cards at once now, can I?
> 
> I hope yall are liking the drama/mystery element I've added. We only have a few more chapters to go! And as always, I can't wait to see what you guys come up with in the comments. There seems to be a distrust between the packs. Is it valid? Who knows. I don't.
> 
> Also, how was the torture scene? I feel like it was too shallow ans lacked detail so I might go back and rewrite it but idk.
> 
> Thanks for reading (& remember, comments are love).
> 
> Lots of Love & Lots of Sterek  
> midnight xoxo


	19. Foul Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teaser Chapter~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, if you hated the cliff hanger you're really going to hate this chapter. I was originally going to upload all of it but I felt like it was too early to give everything away. I have to keep you coming back for something!
> 
> Sorry if the formating is off, I had to do this all on my phone bc my laptop died while a03 was down.
> 
> Anywho, enjoy!

Derek startled awake to a heavy hand on his bicep.

“Derek? Damnit Derek, come on!”

What? He was disoriented. He was...he didn’t know where he was. The lights were bright and out of focus, floating across the face of the person who was shaking him.

Harshly. Too harshly.

His head hurt. Was he hung over? No. No he was... where the fuck was he? He was...in the woods? Why? Who was--?

“Fuck it, Derek. Come on, Stiles needs you! Get the fuck up!”

Stiles?  
Stiles.  
_Stiles_.

That moment everything came back to him. He shot upright as he worked to focus his eyes on the figure in front of him.

“Thank fuck,” came the response.

James was knelt in front of him, eyes glowing beta gold. Derek, for a moment wondered why, until he realized that his eyes were steadily glowing red. _Respect_.

The Alpha tried to orient himself and everything seemed to come through at once.

The sound, the smells, the atmosphere.

They were fighting. His pack. And the Grey’s. Against...against...he had no idea. They didn’t have a scent. But they were strong. And fast and...his thoughts were cut off when a wounded howl sounded out from the clearing.

Someone was down. Someone was dead.

A woman, presumably from The Grey Pack was crouched over a man, limp in her arms. Her sobs were horrid. Haunting. The movement in the clearing seemed to stop. Everyone turned to look, the Greys all crying out in despair before attacking their marks with even more fervor.

Derek watched as James’ face paled and this time he was the one who placed a heavy  
hand. With a tight squeeze James looked at him before nodding, taking the unsaid message to move on.

As harsh as a reality it was, there was nothing to be done now. He was dead. And it hurt. Derek knew how much it physically ached to lose a pack member. And all of them at once, as well. But they had to move on, keep going, push past it. They couldn’t let this death be in vain. Not like so many others had been.

The boy helped him to his feet and it took Derek less than a second to get his footing before he was off.

He immediately went for the thing that had delivered the dead wolf’s final blow and unceremoniously clawed out his throat. He made brief eye contact with the fresh widow and moved on.

Erica moved around Amanda and Michael while Jackson and Thomas worked on a giant man that was swinging with both hands out. They were human...well they looked human at least. But they were something more. There was no scent to identify them with and...

Wait...no  _scent_.

The packs seemed to ebb and flow and work their way through each of the threats. They  
seemed to be making progress and Derek had hope that maybe...just maybe they would all make it out okay.

Until he felt a strong force approaching. Lucille must have felt it too because she automatically stiffened next to Derek.

“What is that?” He questioned.

The older woman shook her head and turned to face the expected direction. The fighting in the background faded as the force quickly made its way. Then Derek’s hearing went fuzzy before four beams of yellow light made their way into the mess of limbs and wolves. Derek felt it in his chest when three of those beams hit his pack. He watched helplessly as Boyd, Kira and Malia dropped to the ground immediately and listened to the cries of his other pack members as it happened.

In a rage, Derek turned to see the source and jumped at it as soon as it came into view. His  
claws were out and his fangs were dropped. He wouldn’t stop until they were dead.

He was was fast enough to make brief contact before he heard a shout and was being tackled away.

He didn’t care who it was, they were going to die.

But apparently James had felt differently. He had been the one to shoved Derek off his course and Derek was _pissed_. He retaliated by clawing at his arm and knocking him to the ground.

There was a commotion as the person slipped away and the people they had been fighting against dropped to the floor...as if a string had been cut....a similar fashion to how the three had dropped. It made Erica's heart twist in her chest.

But Derek was more focused on James. The boy was quick, knocking Derek to his feet again and jumping at him, Derek though, was faster. He immediately caught his shoulders and tossed him away, making sure to dig his claws in to cause a rip in his skin when he was released. He made his way to his feet and was about to attack the boy again when he was being pulled away by strong arms.

He was pissed. Beyond pissed. Three of his betas were down and very much could be dead. Stiles, his mate was in danger, and obviously a lot of it. And he had just been  
about to fix everything before this fucking moron had to jump in his way and ruin all of it.

He was running so much on instinct and anger that he barely heard the voice coming through.

 

“Calm down. Find Stiles. Find Stiles, Derek!”

His anchor. He needed his anchor. After a few long minutes he calmed himself and shook off Scott, maybe a little harder than necessary, but if his pack wasn’t used to his grumpy moods by now, they never would be.

And Derek was currently the epitome of grumpy right now.

 

 

Laurel’s eyes fluttered open. The previous blow to her head had been hard. Hard enough to throw her off her senses for a little. She had just barely made it to safety before passing out. However, she was fine now. She felt her magic running through her, doing its best to settle her. She had only been out for a couple of seconds, but she could still taste the metallic iron of blood on her mouth. She lifted a hand to her head and groaned. She scanned the area around her, allowing her eyes to rest on the figure near her.  _ Stiles. _ She couldn’t move. Tied down by some mysterious force. Maybe there  _ was _ hope. She startled when Stiles jumped awake. He too, winced at his injuries before taking in the environment around them. When his amber eyes rested on hers, she could see the blatant and heartfelt relief in them.

“Laurel! Thank God. Are you alright? Did they hurt you?”

She chanced a smile, knowing she probably looked slightly manic with her bruising eye and bloodied teeth.

“Good to see you awake, Stiles.”

“Me too. Let’s get out of here.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *smirky face*
> 
> Any theories yet?
> 
>  
> 
> Also I stared using my fandom twitter @shale00 again for updates about my writing. If you want to complain about my shit writing or plot holes follow me (please?) or just check the hashtag #thenewnormal xoxo
> 
> Lots of Love & Lots of Sterek x


	20. Who's On First?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The big reveal....if I didn't already give it away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here it is. Chapter 20. The big bad reveal (I'm definitely having way too much fun with these CH Titles if you haven't already noticed). I've nearly finished writing everything out and it's well past 50k words (wtf) and 100 pages (equally wtf). Funny thing is, I'm having trouble writing a 5 pager for my social psychology class. Pray for me.
> 
> ALSO, I HIGHLY SUGGEST THAT YOU GO BACK AND REREAD CHAPTERS 18 & 19 BEFORE READING THIS ONE. I ADDED A FEW EXCERPTS THAT SHOULD CLEAR A FEW THINGS UP (3-19-17). IF YOU'VE READ IT AFTER THIS DATE THEN NO NEED =) BUT I THINK IT WOULD BE HELPFUL. OR IT MAYBE EVEN MORE CONFUSING. WHO KNOWS.
> 
> So...I'm sorry (not sorry) in advance. And I hope you like it.
> 
> Lots of Love & Lots of Sterek
> 
> ~ midnight x

“Who _was_ that?” Isaac asked harshly.

“I don’t...I don’t know.”

“Yes you do,” Scott snarled, detecting the lie.

Peter emerged from the treeline, “Of course she does,” he snorted unamused.

“She’s just a kid!” Lucille basically cried.

“Look what she’s _done_ ,” Derek hissed through his fangs, throwing a hand out to encompass everything around them, then gesturing to the still grieving wolf, clutching at her husband. Her dead husband.

“They’re protecting her!” Jackson accused.

Tom growled as he held the beta back with his arms barred diagonally over his chest. It looks like Derek wasn’t the only one keen on attacking.

“Of course they are,” Peter spat, kicking some loose dirt at the fallen enemy.

“She’s our pack,” Amanda, from where Erica knelt on her back, pressing her face into the dirt, snarl on her face, “Imagine if it were Stiles,” she pleaded, “She’s our _pack_ .”  
  
Her voice broke and as if a spell had been cast, everyone seemed to calm down. Because the last thing Derek expected to see was fourteen year old Laurel standing tall and proud as her eyes glowed green and her pack fought and suffered.

Tom slowly released Jackson and as a sign of good... _decent_ faith, Erica removed herself from Amanda.

“What is she?” Scott asked, more annoyed than curious.

Tom opened his mouth to respond but Lucille cut him off, “She’s a druid. But...what would she want with Stiles?”

Derek felt his hackles raise but his pack was quick to jump in.

“That sounds like a question we should be asking _you_ ,” Allison snapped at the same time Liam accused, “Like you don’t know.”  
  
“We don’t,” Lucille promised as she squatted next to James to help him stand.

“They don’t,” Derek confirmed, monitoring her heartbeat and watching her posture carefully.

“Then how--”

“She wasn’t working through the pack,” Chris offered.

Peter turned to the other Alpha, “Stiles is a spark.”

He watched as shock crossed the face of mother and son. Derek kind of wanted to strangle his Uncle right now, but he knew it was information that needed to be shared.  
  
“What? _Stiles_?” Amanda gasped.

Erica rolled her eyes.

“Is that why you thought we would hurt him?” James asked quietly, seeming to be putting all the pieces together, too.

Begrudgingly, Derek could see where he and Stiles would have been a good pair.

Erica nods, “There were threats. Then we found out about _you_ and made the logical connection,” her eyes glowed in challenge and James’ glowed back.

Lucille put a hand on her son’s shoulder, the same way Derek should have done with Erica, but he was still shocked and angry and was too far along in all of this to attempt to control his pack that had every right to be upset.

“She’s right, James. Anyone would have made that jump.”

“Come _on_ ,” Jackson whined, “we need to find Stiles. Now that we know he’s with that bitch we need to get to him fast.”

A chorus of growls ran through the Grey’s at the term but no one corrected him. They had been betrayed. By their pack member. Their kin. Their family. Their Emissary nonetheless. She had killed one of her own. She was _dangerous_.

Derek spoke, “I need your loyalty. I know she’s your pack, but she’s the enemy right now. If any of you feel like you cannot fight her then please go, I won’t take offense, but you need to leave. Get us Stiles and you can deal with her however you wish. But you have to understand Lucille, if she gets in the way of us and Stiles I will not hesitate to kill her.”

A distressed noise was made from Amanda who was gripping Michael’s hand. There was a murmur of discussion before a few of the Grey Pack pardoned themselves and Lucille nodded in acceptance.

Derek turned towards Chris, “Call John and Lydia. We need them to get Boyd, Kira and Malia to Deaton. And...and--,” he looked to Lucille for guidance.

“Glenn,” her voice was soft.

Derek nodded and Chris fished for his phone.

Derek took a moment to take in his surroundings. Fresh blood was spilled on dried leaves. The brightness was in sharp contrast to the death it surrounded. If he concentrated, he was able to feel the bond between he, Boyd, Malia and Kira. But he couldn’t hear their hearts. It was odd magic. Old and strange. But strong. He inhaled, taking in the scents around him and---the _scents_.

“One last thing--”  
  
Lucille nodded.

“It’s about your scent.”  
  
“Our scent?”

“Why is it...nonexistent?”

The Alpha narrowed her eyes, “What do you mean?”

“You smell human,” Isaac jumped in.

James had never seen his mother look so offended, “What?” She snapped.

“Why do you think we didn’t know you were here in the first place? Why _are_ you here?”

“Derek--” Scott started, but Lucille cut him off.

“It’s okay. But we smell as wolf as you do. We fled from Amanda’s father. He was... _abusive_. He was in the police force, a wolf as well. We needed to stay off the grid, and if you don’t know pack politics then Beacon Hills is pretty far off the map,” A thought seemed to dawn on her as she paused. Horror took her features before she schooled them quickly into a hardened leader, “Laurel...she had a spell to manipulate scents. She said...it was...it should have been lifted a long time ago.”

“It’s not,” Isaac deadpanned.

“As I’ve gathered,” Lucille responded, equally as flat.

“You realize we could have taken this as an act of war,” Scott commented.

“We took all the proper measures. We even sent a representative, a negotiator,” Tom said, teeth gritting suddenly as realization crossed his features as well.

“We had no idea you were here,” Scott gritted back, “We received no request and sent no invitation. So if you really had sent a negotiator then who did you send?”

Derek sighed and closed his eye for a moment, one of his arms that had crossed in front of him took to massaging the bridge of his nose. Scott turned to look at him. And for the first time he notices the worry line around the man’s eyes. The tired look to him, his exhausted scent. He looked broken. Scared. Stressed.

“They would have sent their Emissary,” he said.

Jackson scoffed, “Great.”

“We didn’t know!”

“We can talk about this later, but right now we need to get Stiles back,” Peter urged.

“Do you have any idea where she could have gone? Any place specific we could check?” Allison asked.

James shook his head along with most of the others. Then Amanda cleared her throat weakly.

She smelt of shame and sorrow and then she spoke, “She liked the hill.”

Lucille placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder gently, “What hill, sweetie?”  
  
“The one with the burnt down house.”

The Hale Pack winced while Amanda pointedly avoided the curious glances from the rest of her pack and he and Peter avoided looks from their own.

Derek nodded, “We’ll check there first.”

  


She laughed. Innocent and bell like... _as always,_ as she folded her legs out to stand before him.

“Oh, Stiles. I thought you were supposed to be the smart one.”  
  
“What...what do you mean?”

It was when she stood that he finally connected the dots.

“You...this was _you_?”

Her smile was saccharine.

“It’s not personal...well, I mean, kinda is,” she shrugged.

He struggled in his bounds.

“I wouldn’t waste your strength. They’re enchanted.”

She bent down by the waist and traced the spiral on his chest with her finger, “Messier than I would have done.”

Stiles only could stare. The shock was strong enough to throw him off kilter. He felt sick to his stomach. Where was James then? She had called from _his_ phone.

“What are you? What do you want? Where’s James? Where are _we_?”

“You’re not really in the position to be asking the questions, Stiles. But I _like_ you.”

She smiled again and he barely staved off a full body shudder.

“I’m a druid. An Emissary. _Magic_ . Whatever they call it this century.”  
  
“Century?” Stiles couldn’t help but squeak, voice high and panicked.

“I told you I was older than you thought.”

He paused, vaguely remembering that conversation before he shook himself out of it, “So what do you want from _me_?”

“How do you think I look this fantastic at _this_ age? I’m over thirty decades old and there’s not a wrinkle on me,” her hand cupped his jaw as she leveled her eyes with his, “I absorb life forms. But humans are too weak. So I look for magic users. Or sparks. It not only passes on the life, but the power. It’s a shame that you never learned to use it. Because yours Stiles...” she grinned again, “is so _so_ pure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp...
> 
> So what did you think? Did you totally know it? Did you ever think it could have been someone else? Was it too obvious? Did you even understand it? Because I didn't. Are you guys still even into this? idk
> 
> Hope to see you in the comments and for Chapter 21....which I'll be releasing when this reaches 20,000 hits or 275 comments (just bc I'm delusionally ambitious and for some reason think this fic deserves it (don't worry i know it doesn't)...also for the fact that I enjoy torturing you just a little bit. I am the worst, but if you've been tagging along then you all already knew that). 
> 
> Is that ever going to actually happen? No, probably not.  
> Is she actually serious? Maybe.  
> Is she crazy? Probably.  
> Is this childish? Oh, absolutely. 
> 
> But....see you again soon xoxo


	21. What's On Second?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Now, where were we? Oh! That’s right. Chopping off your head!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, you lil' shits did it....20k hits. 
> 
> A promise is a promise is a promise.
> 
> You guys are literally amazing. The responses are seriously so so sweet and it honestly means the world to me that you like this fic. I won't get emotional on you just yet since we still have a handful of chapters left to go, but thank you so very much.
> 
> So here's CH21....you guys aren't going to like this. Not even a little.
> 
> All I'm saying is that you know shit gets decently intense when I start writing in stanzas.
> 
> Enjoy the ride.

They made their way to the Hale House. An eerie glow, that made Derek’s stomach flip, covered it as well as a wide range of land in between the house and them. He could feel the barrier and he felt his wolf begin to pace.

“Get Lydia here. We’re going to need magic,” he snarled to Jackson who was already dialing her.

He had sent Liam back with the rest of the Grey Pack who had backed down and instructed them to Deaton’s with Boyd, Malia and Kira, who were still unconscious. Derek, Scott, Chris. Allison, Jackson, Peter, Isaac, Lucille, Tom, Amanda, James a handful of the Grey’s now waited. Twenty minutes later Lydia came running into the clearing. She was out of breath but in only a few minutes she recovered and decoded the situation at hand.

“I can break the seal but to only get it. The only way to break it completely is to kill the caster or if she breaks it herself.”  
  
“Do it,” Derek commanded.

“You don’t understand, there might be wolfsbane in the air or mistletoe or anything that can be used against werewolves. If you go in you can’t come out. And until it drops, I can’t go in.”

“That’s why we’re going in with them,” Chris said, gesturing to himself and Allison.

She sucked in a deep breath and nodded, hoping that he and Allison would be enough to save them all if it really came down to it. She gave Jackson’s cheek a careful peck before turning towards the house to recite careful words in a careful language.

 

With a flash of red covering the eerie green, the wolves and hunters charged into battle.

 

Laurel’s fingers slowly continued to trace the marks carved into his skin.

“The moon’s rising. It’s time to start. You’re a curious one, so I’ll let you at least know how you’re going to die.”  
  
Stiles gulped and struggled again in the ropes, but they only pulled tighter.  
  
Enchanted. Right. Of course.  
  
He watched as she bent over close to him again. Her voice didn’t match the venomous words she was spewing. She still wore the jeans and floral blazer she had been wearing to school and no matter what she said or did, all Stiles could see was the fourteen year old girl who had brought him soup and watched movies with him. Who held his hand and shared private jokes with him.  
  
He was pulled out from his fantasy when her sweet voice came through.

“This one,” she pointed to the spiral, her face inches from Stiles’ “is for growth and expansion. My power is growing. This assures it. This one,” she pointed to Stiles’ arm, a five fold celtic knot, that he didn’t remember even being cut into him, stood red and irritated, “is for the elements. They make us stronger. Again, it’s too bad you never learned how to utilize your spark. What a waste. For you, anyways. This one,” the one on his thigh that the man had drawn, a pentagram, “keeps your soul in you until I’m ready for it. Now that these are taken care of, and your blood has been drawn, the final step is to stab you through your heart and then cut off your head.”

She smiled sweetly.

Yeah, Stiles was really going to throw up.

“If only you had joined our pack, Stiles,” she shook her head, feigning disappointment, “This all would have been so much easier. I could have drained you. I wouldn’t have had to kill you or involve your pack or anything. You would have been _happy_ with us. Remember how easy you said it was? How perfect we fit together? Shame, really. Even a human like you would have been helpful. I guess we’ll never find out exactly how much help you really would have been.”

She began forward. The sound of throaty howls, however, made her tense. Stiles watched carefully as she forced herself to relax. Something wasn't right.

“But first let me take care of your friends. Honestly, they’ve been such a bother. I’ve already killed one of them, you'd think they'd give up by now.”

A cold feeling washed over Stiles. No no no no _no_.

She chanted something and the man and woman that had been Stiles’ first sight rose, wobbly on their feet. Without any verbal direction, they headed outside.

“There are plenty more where that came from,” she chuckled over her shoulder as Stiles watched her in disbelief.

“Now, where were we? Oh! That’s right. Chopping off your head!”

Her voice was overly cheerful. Yeah. Stiles was  _definitely_ going to throw up.

 

Derek and the others were immediately rushed from every angle by these human-creatures. They crowded them and no matter how many times they were fought off, they kept coming back.

He watched Isaac fall.  
And Jackson fall.  
Chris was running out of bullets.  
Tom was struggling next to him.

He felt himself getting weaker and he knew...just _knew_ that it was some kind of magic.

“Allison,” he called. When she grunted from somewhere in acknowledgement,he continued, “You need to find her. Stop her. She’s using magic. She’s draining us.”

With a brief nod she was off, dodging the fighting as she went. Scott covered for her as long as he could and then she was gone.

 

Despite the move on, Stiles could see the panic in Laurel’s face.

Something wasn’t going to plan.

Whatever it was, was as good as it was dangerous.

When people were panicked they got violent.  
Inconsolable.  
Unpredictable.  
They became hasty.  
And quick.  
They got _messy_.

She pulled the knife from her sheath and quickly stepped towards him.

“Please,” he begged, “Laurel, please no. Come on. Please. No."

“I’m sorry Stiles, I’m running out of time. It needs to be done now.”

Her eyes were wild and smile manic.

“You were fun,” she reassured as she cradled his head and turned the knife in her hand.

Something pulled uncomfortably in Stiles' chest, making him know that she was telling the truth.  
Maybe for the first time in her life.

He was going to die.  
This was it.  
He was...  
He didn’t even get a chance.  
He hasn't even lived yet.  
  
What about college?  
He wanted to go to college.  
He wanted to drown in papers and fail tests.  
He wanted to have one more Christmas with his pack.  
He wanted one more dinner with Dad.?  
He wanted one more hug.

He didn't even get the chance to love Derek or to let Derek love him.  
He didn't even get the chance at Senior Prom.  
He didn't even get the chance to have a Wedding.  
He didn't even get the chance to be Scott's Best Man.  
He didn't even get the chance to see Lydia and Jackson finally grow into eachother.

Or Boyd and Erica have kids.  
Or his father and Melissa to find happiness again.  
Or see Liam grow up.  
Or see Isaac not have nightmares.  
Or see Kira travel to Japan.

See Malia find a friend.  
See Peter smile.  
See Chris forgive.  
See himself grow old.

To have kids of his own.  
To buy a house.  
To defend Roscoe's poise to his kids.  
To wake up wrapped in Derek.  
To live.  
To love.

_“Please.”_

He couldn’t.  
Not yet.  
Not _yet_.

But it was out of his hands now.  
  
A sharp pain shot through his chest and then everything was encompassed by a

Bright.  
White.  
Light.

 

Derek was clawing his way through his enemies. Rallying for the final fight.

When he felt a stab in his chest.  
A bottoming out in his stomach.  
A mass of emotions flooding him.  
Everything seemed to slow around him.  
Nothing made sense.  
There was nothing.  
Not anymore.  
  
A wounded howl ripped itself through his thoughts.

He hadn’t even realized it was his own  
Until his knees hit the ground  
And tears drowned his face

  
Dead.  
  
Stiles was dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops. My hand slipped?


	22. I Don't Know's On Third.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's give you all more questions than answers, shall we?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I REALLY wanted to wait until Wednesday to publish this chapter, but I just love you guys so much and just wanted to share.
> 
> Anyway, I'm getting sort of anxious. This fic is a MONSTER. And I'm so scared of becoming sloppy in my writing. If you see anything just give me a heads up (nicely, please <3) because both for you guys and myself, I want to be consistent and hit the mark in every single chapter. I feel like a lot of works I see have length but end up, idk tailing off a bit. I'm trying my hardest not to let that happen to us, this fic is already kind of abstract in the traditional way of a story, but...I want to finish strong. Okay, sorry for my rambling....
> 
> This chapter was kind of sweet, and a little less 'intense' than the previous. So I hope you can bask in a teensey bit of homey/domestic bliss before we get hit with the angst bus again.
> 
> May your naps be strong and your tea be warm.
> 
> Midnight xoxo

Scott couldn’t move. He was frozen. He felt hot and cold all at once. He could only watch on as Derek immediately stilled and fell to his knees, all human features melting away.

Because he had felt it _too_.

Jackson and Erica were on the fallen Alpha immediately, “What? What’s wrong?” They demanded, still too distracted by the fight to feel the snap of the bond, holding him down by the shoulders as he tried to escape.

To run.  
To the scene.  
To his mate.  
To  _Stiles_.  
  
To get away.  
Anywhere.  
Anywhere was better than that moment.  
Anywhere was better than here.

He’d gone feral right away.

And Scott knew why.

His anchor had been ripped from him. He had no control. No humanity to focus on.  
  
Nothing. Derek had nothing. Not anymore.

The fighting continued around them. But it didn’t matter. It wasn’t worth it. It was over.

Lydia’s hoarse scream eventually made its way to them through the thick barrier of the spell, and then all the others understood, too.

 

Liam felt the bond break at the clinic. He dropped to his knees, claws out, eyes glowing. Deaton’s hand gripped his shoulder as he pulled him to sit down. The man gave him a sad look, but he must had understood Liam’s reaction. There was nothing...nothing left in Stiles’ spot. He was simply gone. Like an ache. Like the growing pains you get when you’re a child, the endless soreness that nothing could shake. Only this time he felt it in his chest.

He paced for what seemed to be hours. He finally settled, sitting in a rusted folding chair with his head in his hands, tears running down his face. The only thing that pulled him from his thoughts were three simultaneous gasps before Boyd, Malia and Kira sat up ramrod straight, pulling for air and orienting themselves on the metal exam tables. Liam tried to stand to greet them, tell them the news, but he only made it a few steps before wobbling back down to his knees as his pack bond flooded with emotion.

“Stiles,” was the only broken word he could say, “Stiles.”

Boyd’s hand flew to his chest, confirming the feeling himself. When his eyes met Liam’s he looked as broken as the boy felt.

 

A white light spread through the preserve, like a bomb. It started from the house and it quickly quickly encapsulated the rest of the preserve in an expanding ring.

It passed over where the packs were. The magic was strong and tense, momentarily causing a pause before the creatures they were fighting dropped to the forest floor.

Everything was quiet.

Everything was done.

It was all over.

Stiles was dead.

And if Lydia running towards them, with mascara running down her face, jagged sobs coming from her mouth, and if the sharp intake of breath from Lucille, if Amanda and James dropping to their knees, indicated anything...it was that Laurel was dead too.

It had all been for nothing. Absolutely nothing. Nothing....nothing.

 

Stiles woke to... _bright_.

He winced as he sat up, a hand out in front of him in an attempt to block the light. He was...he was in the same place he had been, but now it was a house. An actual house. Tea green paint covered the walls, a deep wooden table topped with a vase of dark blue irises stood in the hallway. Messy children’s artwork lined the hallway and there was a calming air to the place. Like it was enchanted. Or rather, it was a home. It was homey. He was fine. He was fine?

He was... _was_ he alive? No. No _way_. He had to be in...purgatory or something. Right? The inbetween.

He hadn’t always believed in the afterlife, as he had been jaded by reality. But it _had_ become a comfort of sorts over time, though.  
  
He had needed _something_. After his Mom. After Heather. And Tara. And Aiden. He needed to know there was a place for them. That they still... _existed_ . And sometimes before they faced a big threat he allowed himself to be comforted by the thought that his pack...his friends, his _family_ had a place to go if anything went wrong. That they wouldn't just die. They wouldn't just lose their life, their animation, their _soul_ in the hell-pit of Beacon Hills, California.   
  
He knew his own morals weren’t strong enough to land him a place in The Garden, but he wasn’t exactly aiming for eternal damnation either. And this? This wasn’t exactly what he pictured Purgatory as. Maybe like in Supernatural--dark and dreary. Dirty. Endless. Something with a lot of grey areas, kind of like...well kind of like Stiles’ moral compass.

That or something like a long ass line of people waiting to get into a giant courtroom of sorts where they’d plead their case in front of a jury of angels. He had practice his own case before in the shower. He had, unsurprisingly, not come up with much. It had become a week long project, though, arguing the case of Heaven for each of his pack mates. Derek and Kira had been the easiest, Jackson and Erica proved more difficult. But not impossible. Never impossible.  
  
By Friday he was looking into law schools and contemplating the idea of asking Deaton if there were such things as lawyers for the dead.

That weekend a family of pixies blew into town and he never got the chance.

He turned his head as he heard soft footsteps approaching. He readied for a fight as a woman rounded the corner with a soft smile. Like she had almost been expecting him. Her eyes were a messy green that were both comforting and familiar. Her tan skin complimented her dark hair and a toss of freckles covered her face.

“Who--who are you?” He gasped out, voice raw and tired.

She smiled down at him, “I’m Talia, Stiles. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

 

She set him down on a fluffy couch with a cup of tea. Much like Derek had done for him many times before, it allowed him a rush of brief elation.

It felt like a dream. Everything had a mysterious glimmer to it, like a veil was over his eyes. It was hard to explain. It was like a filter was in place. It was mystical and calming.

And everything smelt of earl grey tea.

Stiles started when another woman, one that could only have been Laura Hale, entered the room and offered him a blanket. He couldn’t stop  _staring._ Her long light brown hair reminded him of Cora, her intense look and huff of impatience as she shoved the material into his awaiting hands, of Derek. Her face...her face resembled Derek's face when it held an expression of content...or of vulnerability. When he was awake the man was guarded, hard and taut. But in the early mornings, when Stiles would roll over to see him still sleeping, or when he caught Derek looking at him quietly, his face was a perfect copy of Laura's. Soft and young...just a kid's face without the weight of the world on his shoulders.  _Happy_.  _Okay_. He choked up at the thought.

He cautiously wrapped the blanket around his shoulders, the coldness of death slowly seeping in.

“So...I'm dead?"

Talia tilted her head at him as Laura took the seat next to her on the other couch that sat across from Stiles, separated only by a thin coffee table, and shrugged.

Stiles watched them. They were beautiful. Like Derek.

“Now I know where Derek gets his lack of communication skills from,” was what he mumbled out against the cup of tea he held with both hands instead.

He immediately winced. It wasn’t much of a surprise. Stiles always knew that he’d make an ass of himself in front of his in-laws--or, well, this was the closest thing he’d ever get to have to in-laws he supposed--the first time he’d meet them. Fantastic.

But to his surprise, Laura only snorted. And it sounded how Stiles always thought it would have. It broke his heart. Talia smiled lightly and reached out to cup Stiles’ jaw with her hand. Her touch erasing the burning one Laurel had left when she had done the same thing.

“He sure picked a weird one, Mom,” Laura stated, shrugging off the insulted look Stiles threw her way, but her gaze was fond and soft.

“I’m so happy Derek found you, Stiles. You make him happy. For the first time. My baby is happy. Because of you.”

He felt the tears in his eyes overflow but he didn’t bother brushing at them.

“He makes me happy too,” he admitted, voice breaking in truth.

“Thank you,” she said again.

“I--”

“Please...keep loving him.”  
  
Stiles swallowed, “I’m going back?”

He could hear the stilted hope in his voice.

Talia shook her head, “We don’t know.”

He nodded once and she tucked a piece of his hair behind his ear before pulling her hand away. Stiles immediately missed the touch.

“Mrs. Hale--”

She laughed, “You can call me Talia, Stiles.”

“Talia...I couldn’t stop loving Derek if I tried. I know we’re bound together or whatever, but to tell you the truth, I loved Derek long before that. And it might not have been in the conventional way--”  
  
“Nothing _you two do_ is conventional,” Laura smirked.

“Laura,” Talia chastised halfheartedly.

And again his heart ached at what Derek could still have. What he _had_.

He blushed but continued, “But I did. And I will. Forever. Even if it's not," he paused to eye Laura, "... _conventional_."

The girl cackled delightfully, "Oh, I  _like_ you."

Stiles let out an easy grin, while his insides sank a little lower. Knowing he was accepted by the people that meant the most to Derek. That they thought he was  _good_ for him. That they trusted Stiles to take care of him...it was more than Stiles ever needed.

Talia nodded, this time the tears were in her both their eyes, “That’s all I needed to hear. Thank you.”

He nodded again, his throat thick.

“I...can...can I see my Mom?”

Something crossed the older woman’s eyes and a watery smile took to her face before she shook her head, “I’m sorry.”

More tears leaked out. This time he hastily brushed them away before nodding. He had been so  _close_. 

“The pull would be too strong. We don’t know where you are, but seeing her would only bring you closer to death. And it’d be ideal if you lived.”

He barked out a dry laugh, “Yeah.”

“I wish...I wish I had this,” he then said, “That Derek could still have this. All of it.”

“Me too,” Laura said grimly, “But life's not fair.” 

And Stiles knew the phrases was a weighted one. Especially coming from Laura Hale.

“He still has a lot though. Remember that, Stiles. He has a pack. A family. He found his mate. He has a home, again.”

Stiles curled his lips up in agreement.

“And if you think about it...he’s one of the lucky ones. Because in his life, he has found people who have loved him before he was broken and after. And he found you. He’s had two families. Two packs.”

“I’m sure we’d all prefer it if it had just become one.”

“Of course. But as Laura said, life isn’t fair. And sometimes tragedy happens. People are lost. But other times...other times Stiles, there’s a miracle.”  
  
At those words, a light pulsed outside. All of them turned to look.

“It looks like it’s time for you to go, Stilinski,” Laura said, standing.

Talia nodded in agreement.

“W-where?”

Laura shrugged, “Just...onward. Beyond.”

Her hand twirled as she spoke. Stiles gulped.

“I find your lack of faith disturbing.”

This time he choked out a laugh, “Oh--oh, God. Did you just quote _Star Wars_ at me? While I’m literally dying? We would have gotten along so well.”

She laughed with him, “Derek _would_ find himself a nerd. Just like him.”

Laura punched his arm before pulling him into a tight hug, “Don’t let him brood too much, Stiles.”

He nodded and squeezed her back, “You were his best friend.”

“I know,” she winked at him, “And now you are. So take care of him."

Talia hugged him next, wrapping him in a motherly embrace. One that Stiles missed too often. She pulled away to frame his face once more with her soft hands and kissed his forehead gently.

“I’m sorry it was under these circumstances, but I’m glad I got to meet you. Derek couldn’t have found a better person to spend his life with. Remember that life...that happiness is a journey, Stiles. It’s not a destination. You'll be okay."

 

And then she was gone. And Stiles fell into darkness and into excruciating pain.

The mental rip and pain of leaving one mentality and entering another tore through his mind. He felt like his skull was being pulled open with dull fingers pulling it apart. A hot pain accompanied it, running through his chest. The twist of death was everywhere. He couldn’t breath. Or think. Or feel. He couldn’t feel anything. Except himself being torn apart, every way imaginable. His mind. His body. His soul. It was impossible. The very definition of intolerable. He was in Hell. He _had_ to be. Life would not have been as cruel as to inflict this kind of torture onto one person alone.

There was nothing worse than this. Nothing....

He stood corrected when he finally came to. The sensations intensified, multiplying quickly and unevenly. He wasn't even sure if he was still  _whole_.

And if he wasn’t dead...he wished he were.

It _hurt_. It hurt and he wanted it to _stop_.

 _Please_. Please. Anything. Anything to make it  _stop_.

He’d do _anything_ . Just... _please._

But all he could do was open his mouth.

Let his soul rip through him.

And scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun Dun Dun.
> 
> Love me some Stiles/Hale Family feels♡♡
> 
> I tried to lay off the excruciating cliffhanger this time. How'd I do?
> 
> I know you all curse my name for the cold endings but how else am I supposed to lure you all back? Besides, I think I like the episodic feel it brings....and I believe that was the last one anyways ♡
> 
> Thank you so much for reading xx  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> Author Update: Okay, so looking back I realize that this ending is as abrupt as the others, but to defend myself, I keep forgetting that you guys don't know everything that I do and that we aren't actually just one collective consciousness. You'll understand my thought process soon enough.
> 
> Also, what'd you guys think of the scent explination? I had it planned for awhile but I wanted to make sure it didn't come across as too hasty. I'll probably be going back and rewriting a lot of this fic anyways. 
> 
> Thanks again, lovelies xx


	23. Diamondbacks vs Athletics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So...April Fools. Here's your fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be MIA for the next week, as it is the last week before Spring Break, so I figured I'd give this to you assbutts now.
> 
> There are some time jumps in this one, hopefully distinguishable. Also, see end notes for any warnings.
> 
> Also, you people are SASSY! My heavens. I love it so so very much. I want to build an army of you people because you're all kweens. Thank you for always making me smile in the comment section.
> 
> Regardless of your very angry previous remarks, I hope you enjoy this chapter...
> 
> Lots of Love & Lots of Sterek  
> xoxo

Stiles’ heartbeat was deafening.

 

It was sudden and loud in Derek’s ears and everything seemed to flood back to him at once. His mind. His body. His soul. It was like breathing for the first time, everything came back to him together. He felt his wolf and his soul reconnect. It was painful, red and hot. But it meant that Stiles was _alive_.

Losing your anchor like that...it was like having your brain ripped from your head, your heart ripped from your chest, feeling everything at once but at the same time nothing at all. He suddenly understood Peter a little more, then. Why he had given up, gone crazy, feral.

He slowly rose to his feet, clutching at Erica who was shaking in disbelief and locked eyes with Scott.

“He’s alive.”  
  
“Derek,” Peter’s tired voice came from beside him, “He’s not...I felt it.”

“He’s _alive_ ,” he snarled as he pushed his betas away and raced toward the house. Towards his mate.

 

Stiles’ came to consciousness to the feel of small, delicate hands on his face. He flinched away. He thought he was done. That Laurel was _done_ torturing him. He thought he’d gotten _away_.

“...iles. Stiles. Stiles! Please! Stiles!”

He allowed his eyes to flutter open. Allison? Had she died, too? But...

“Thank God. H-holy shit,” she sniffled.  
Stiles could only look at her, eyes half lidded, swollen and tired. He let his eyes drift over. Laurel was dead on the ground, eyes still open and staring at Stiles. But he couldn’t care.

There was a brief moment of a scuffle with lots of growls and aggressive snaps and retorts, but he couldn’t concentrate. He felt like he was floating. That he wasn’t quite connected. It was when all too rough, familiar hands grabbed for him, did he finally come back to himself.

 

Allison had jumped awake to the sound of screaming. She immediately sat up, on guard, knife drawn., readying for the inevitable fight. She quickly got to her feet and inched towards Stiles. Laurel was on the ground a few feet away. Allison’s jaw clenched. There was no way that shot could have killed her.

She had run up the hill, easily crossing the barriers to protect against the wolves, to see the girl with a dagger drawn upwards, aiming at Stiles’ heart. Panic flooded Allison as she realized that she wouldn’t be able to cover the distance in time. She felt her mother’s presence suddenly, powerful and demanding and she drew her bow. On the exhale she released the arrow, strategically hitting Laurel’s arm, the knife still continued downwards though, stabbing Stiles. But as soon as it broke skin, a force knocked both her and Laurel backwards several feet. She saw the beam before she felt it.

She walked over to Laurel, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. Because _no_ , Allison’s shot hadn’t killed her, but something else had. Her clothes were soaked through with dark blood, like her organs had ruptured from inside. There were no cuts or open marks on her. She looked like she had begun bleeding internally and just hadn’t stopped, leaving it to soak through her skin and her clothes, leaving a muddled puddle beneath her. Her eyes were open, pupils blows wide. And she looked, Allison swallowed, she looked fourteen. But that was the least of her worries, she quickly made her way to Stiles, who too, was bleeding out into a puddle. She applied as much pressure to the wound as she could, opting to leave the knife in to prevent too much blood loss. She felt tears spring to her eyes. Shit. There was...there was too much blood. She choked off a sob and called his name. He didn’t respond.

“Stiles! Stiles. Come on. Please. Stiles!”

There was nothing.

 

Derek dashed up the hill, the rest of the packs close behind him. With every step closer the irregular heartbeat grew fainter. But closer. When he set eyes on Stiles he stopped. Allison was calling for him, but there was no response. The boy was battered and bruised, a knife protruding from his chest, unconscious and afraid. It was the squabble of the others that made him jump into action. He slid to the ground on his knees, unceremoniously pushing in front of Allison, who quietly moved over to clutch at Scott, and grabbed Stiles’ face in his hands, the boy’s whiskey eyes snapped to Derek’s.

Lucille and the others surrounded Laurel, letting their own tears fall as Amanda sobbed into the dead girl's chest. Someone was calling the hospital to alert them and he thought he heard another contacting the police. But he couldn’t bring himself to care about any of that, because Stiles was _alive_ . He placed a strong hand on one of the boy’s shoulder and rested his forehead on the other--feeling, _touching_ to ground himself, to know for himself that he was there--and just breathed.

“Jesus, Stiles,” he whispered, throat thick, “I guess we were wrong. You really can’t go a month without almost fucking dying.”

His words were thin and broken as he pulled back to hold and examine Stiles’ face.

“Derek,” he managed before letting out a heavy, broken sob, letting a series of quieter ones follow. But they were equally as broken. Equally as heavy.

Derek felt his face crumble at the sound, but his hand and gaze remained on Stiles’ face as he began cutting at the ropes. Stiles’ eyes kept drifting over to Laurel’s dead body and Derek’s heart ached.

“I know,” he murmured, “I know. It’s alright. I got you now. You’re safe now, baby. I got you, Stiles...you’ll be okay.”

 

He was in the hospital for a week. He suffered from copious blood loss, torn muscles from where the knife had gone through, a severe concussion and a shit ton of PTSD. The doctor recommended he seek therapy and John had tried to make himself seem eager to comply without flat out laughing in the guy's face. If only he knew....

But...maybe therapy wasn’t such a bad idea. Maybe they all needed to go. Fuck, John himself probably needed it pretty badly himself. And his boys, _fuck,_ Stiles and Derek _definitely_ needed it. And probably Jackson, too, who seemed to be standing guard at Stiles’ hospital room door.

“Son,” he said, clasping the boy at the shoulder, “Go home. I don’t need your father suing me for something this week.”

Jackson blushed and John sighed.

“Just get home. Get some rest. He’ll be home in a day or two and I’m sure he’ll be ready for visitors soon after. You know how he is.”

Jackson smiled at him unsurely and nodded, “Sure, Sheriff.”

After watching him disappear down the hospital corridor he let himself in. The sight he was met with was now familiar. Stiles was sleeping, hair messy and skin still pale, with Derek bent over, head rested on the bed in the crook of his own arm, sleeping as well, with their hands tangled messily together. Stiles hadn’t let go of Derek since he’d seen him.

John smiled fondly at them and pulled up a chair on the other side of the bed. The scraping woke Derek, causing the wolf  to jump up, eyes flashing, on high alert.

“Just me, kid.”

He let out a breath and nodded, sitting up at well. John didn’t miss the lingering gaze he threw at his son before turning fully to the Sheriff.

“Doctor say anything?”

He shook his head, “No. The concussion is better, nothing serious anymore. He’s supposed to go to physical therapy for his shoulder, but she didn’t hit anything vital, so he should get full movement back with time. He should be able to be home tomorrow or the next day...and they want him to go to therapy.”

Derek snorted, “We’re all gonna need therapy after this.”

John nodded in agreement and watched as Derek used his free hand to flatten a particular wild patch of hair on Stiles head. He looked up suddenly as if he had forgotten that John was there and blushed a deep crimson. He elected to ignore the whole thing....for now. They'd eventually have to talk about it. All of them. About whatever it was. If it was serious. About sex. Oh God. It could wait until Stiles was better though. It all could.

Deciding to spare Derek for the sake of the emotional high they've all been riding the past week, he offered, “Is there a game on?”

John didn't miss Derek’s small sigh of relief as he answered, “I think the Diamond Backs play the Athletics in an hour.”

 

The game was good background noise for Derek’s busy mind. He had gotten a thousand answers, but now he had a million more questions.

He had rushed into the hospital, Stiles bloody in his arms. Derek almost didn’t release him until Melissa coaxed the boy out of his arms and onto the stretcher. The Sheriff found him not ten minutes later, forearms and the front of his shirt covered in blood, sitting against the wall, head in his hands. The blood was making his stomach roll but over the sterilization and natural bustle of the hospital he couldn’t follow Stiles’ heartbeat. The blood was the only thing of Stiles he _could_ smell. And he needed it. He needed his anchor. But John had wasted no time in hoisting him up and shoving him into an empty room.

“Get yourself together,” he demanded.  
  
Despite the context of the words, his voice was calming and steady. Derek hadn’t realized his claws were out until John took his hand.

“You did it. He’s alright. He’s going to be fine. Derek, look at me. You saved him. He’s alive.”

Before he could respond he was being pulled into the Sheriff’s chest in a hug and he was hugging back.

And if it hadn't gone unnoticed that Derek let out a string of quiet sobs against the man’s shoulder and clutched at him a little tighter than he normally would have, it wasn’t mentioned. The same way Derek ignored the series of tears he smelled falling from the Sheriff.

He ordered Derek to the house to shower and change and when the Alpha hesitated, John arched an eyebrow and told him, in a very Stiles manner, that he looked like a serial killer. Derek’s mouth had twitched up at the comment and agreed. He was back in thirty minutes and John hadn’t tried to make him leave of his on volition since.

Melissa finagled them a private room. They settled and waited, now for Stiles to wake up. Five hours later he was gasping for air and clutching at his chest and at his surroundings.

“Stiles? Stiles! You’re fine. You’re at the hospital. You’re okay. You're safe."

Once he calmed enough to edge off the oncoming panic attack, he fumbled blindly for Derek’s hand and grasping it tightly. After a few quiet seconds he brought up his hands and counted to ten, confirming that this was in fact, real life and not a dream. Both he and John had shared twin looks of broken concern, but said nothing.

“What happened?” he eventually croaked.

“Laurel...”

He tensed, “Where is...is she...”  
  
“She’s dead, Son,” John answered stiltedly.

Stiles closed his eyes and let out a sigh.

“What do you remember?”

Stiles’ eyes snapped to Derek in shock, causing Derek to recoil a bit, pulling his hand back, feeling guilty for asking Stiles to recall something so difficult so soon, “You don’t have to--”  
  
“No!” Stiles nearly shouted, grabbing for Derek’s hand with both of his this time. Once he seemed to have the contact again, he calmed down, “No, it’s fine. I just...I forgot. It’s fine, Derek.”

The wolf immediately relaxed by his side, pointedly ignoring the Sheriff’s curious gaze. That...that could be dealt with later.

“I just remember...I went to get James. He called. Is James...oh my God, is James okay?”  
  
“James is fine. He wasn’t hurt.”

“Was...was anyone else?”  
  
“One of Lucille’s. But...no, no one else. Just you.”

“And Laurel.”  
  
“And Laurel,” John concluded.

“How did she find out?” Derek asked suddenly, all the the questions bubbling to the surface at once.

“In the clearing,” Stiles said quietly.

“What?” Derek asked while John tried to clarify, “How did she know what?”

“How did she find out that Stiles was the Spark?”  
  
“I used magic in the clearing. With the mountain ash. The others just assumed I practiced, but Laurel must have known.”

Derek squeezed his hand in reassurance and Stiles returned the gesture.

“I remember going to see if Laurel and James were okay. She said...she said they were being attacked by hunters. So...well I went and then someone knocked me out and ti-tied me up. They...they carved symbols....”

“We know,” Derek said soothingly, “it’s okay. We’ll figure out how to get rid of them, okay?”

He nodded, closing his eyes.

Derek remember not taking notice of the bloodied, dried marks carved into Stiles’ precious skin until they were in the back of Scott’s car headed towards the hospital. He had been livid. Seen red. Eyes flashing, claws drawn. It had taken Scott’s warnings to settle him back down before he had run with Stiles into the Emergency Wing.

He made a mental note to go see Deaton about it and was startled out of his thoughts by a knock at the door.

“Is it okay if someone comes in?” John asked.

Stiles gave him an appreciative smile and nodded.

“Come in,” John then called, grabbing his son’s other hand that had been anxiously picking at the bed sheets.

Stiles looked up at his father, his chemo signals of pain quickly mixed with the emittance of love and fondness. And God, Derek...Derek _loved_ him in that moment.

“John?” Melissa walked in, leaking anger and nerves everywhere.

It didn’t a werewolf to notice this, because all three of them tensed.

“What is it?”

He mouth twisted distastefully, "CPS.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“CPS is here to see you.”  
  
Stiles paled and his heart rate rocketed.

“W-why?”

“You’ve had...a lot of injuries that required hospitalization this year. Enough so that it raised a red flag. Obviously we all know that your father’s not abusing you,” she raised her voice so that the CPS Agents, presumably outside the door, could hear her, “but they have to check. They’ll ask to talk to you too, Stiles. But they need to talk to your Dad first. The best way to handle this is to cooperate.”

He nodded wordlessly.

“It’ll be _fine_ , Stiles,” Derek murmured, it did little to easy the anxiety, but enough so that he dragged his eyes from Melissa to Derek.

“I’ll be right back, Son. Will you be okay?”

“Yeah. I’ll be fine. I--I guess they really _didn’t_ care about their careers or speeding tickets piling up,” Stiles grinned.

John huffed out a laugh, remembering the conversation they had what felt like years ago, when in actuality it had only been weeks.

“I guess not, Kiddo,” he stood and ruffled his son’s hair before he had followed Melissa out into the hallway.

It had left the two of them alone. And Derek didn’t waste anytime in leaning in and peppering Stiles’ face with light kisses. Stiles took the final step in slotting their mouths together.

“I--” Stiles began when they pulled away, Derek now sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Shh,” he whispered, resting his forehead on Stiles’, looking in him the eye, “You don’t have to say anything. Not now, okay? We’ll be okay.”

The boy had nodded and clutched at Derek’s hand again, “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: CPS makes an appearance. I paint them as the bad guys, but they're just doing their job & protecting our youth!! Also, the characters here kind of dismiss therapy. As a disclaimer, I DO NOT. If you have a problem, no matter how small you think it is, that therapy or any form of treatment may help, I suggest that you take that final step to obtain it. Please take care of yourselves. You are all lovely humans and if you have the chance to heal, take it. There is no shame, no construct and nothing to lose. Despite what the scene in this story may claim, therapy is important!! Mental health is on par with physical health. Please try and remember that, my heart throbs xoxo
> 
>  
> 
> We only have 2-3 more installments left (most questions will be answered in the next chapter, promise!) BUT...since I'll be on Spring Break I'll have time to write any requests any of you may have (midnightcas.tumblr.com/ask). In the comments you guys have so many ideas and theories and plans, and I love a creative mind. So come through and say hi!!
> 
> So...is this better than the previous chapters? The ending was nice and soft (or at least I thought so).
> 
> ALSO, did anyone catch John calling Derek & Stiles his boys? Bc that was like my favorite line this chapter & the Derek/Talia "you'll be okay" trope? like omg my h e a r t 
> 
> See you in a week ~~
> 
> [p.p.s. I just watched the first episode of Riverdale and am in love. My predictions are that I will fall in love with the secondary character and their love interest once again, HOWEVER, the main character will not shame me for doing so, this time ;* )


	24. Full Count

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Answers. Answers. Answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey loves!! Welcome back.
> 
> As the summary states: answers. All of them (I hope).
> 
> If the explanations are confusing in anyway, please just let me know in the comments. I've had this idea in my head for a while, but putting it into words proved to be a bigger challenge than I thought. 
> 
> Also, I believe that I did touch on all of the loose ends, but if I missed any/if you have any additional questions/don't think the answers given are adequate enough, again please let me know! I want to create a full piece that makes sense and doesn't come across as hasty or thoughtless. So thanks in advance!!
> 
> Anywho, thanks for coming back!! This chapter is in Isaac's POV for the most part so it's kind of a fresh perspective. I hope you like it!
> 
> Lots of Love & Lots of Sterek x

That had been a week ago. Now, Stiles was sitting next to his father in the cruiser, silently watching the town go by.

“What’s wrong?”

Stiles jumped at the question. Sometimes he forgot that even though his father wasn’t a werewolf he was abnormally good at picking up behavioral signals.

“I just...I don’t know.”

 

John looked carefully over at his son. Despite the week's worth of rest, the boy still looked wrung out, tired, exhausted. He had bruising underneath his eyes, pronounced even further by the paleness of his skin. The stitches that ran from his hairline to his temple were faded, but still there, and his eyes were constantly skirting around his environment like he was waiting for something... _anything_ to happen. It reminded him of the months following the the nogitsune. While it was nowhere near as frightening, it was close enough that it made John’s heart clench in his chest, a steady reminder of everything wrong in their lives. He wondered, idly, what Claudia would think if she could see them now. He often thought about what life would be like if she were still with them. But now he found himself wondering about her when it came to the matter of werewolves...and kanimas...and fox spirits...and _Stiles_ . How different would things be? How much would be the _sam_ e?

He shook his head as he pulled into the empty driveway--Stiles’ jeep had been brought to Derek’s apartment, a shorter distance from the Preserve than the Stilinski’s home--and finally fully turned to face his son.

“Do...do you want to talk? I know you’ve been talking to Derek some, but...do you want to?”  
  
Stiles paused and shook his head, “Not yet. Thanks though.”

John reached out and grabbed hold of Stiles’ shoulder, “Okay. Just know I’m here to listen.”

He went to get out of the car when Stiles’ hand shot out to grab his tucked in shirt.

“Stiles?”

“I might...” he let out a shaky breath and John lowered himself back into the seat and clicked the door shut.  
  
“What is it honey?”

Stiles looked away and released the hold he had on John.

“I might...have nightmares. Again.”

This time it was John who reached out. He grabbed the back of Stiles’ neck lightly as he had seen Derek do countless times before, causing the boy to turn to him.

“It’s alright. We’ll get through it. We always do.”

At those words, Stiles finally seemed to crack. His face contorted and his eyes filled. Before he consciously knew it, John was pulling Stiles into him and wrapping his arms around the boy tightly. He felt the tears fall into the crook of his neck where Stiles’ face was pressed and the sobs run through his body. He ignored the few escaped tears of his own in favor of rubbing his hand up and down his son’s back, trying to soothe him. After several long minutes, upwards to twenty and downwards to ten, Stiles finally pulled back to wipe his face and give John a sheepish look.

“S-sorry, I--”  
  
John pulled him in for a brief hug, “Son, you never have to apologize to me. For anything. I love you. More than you could ever know. Please just...don’t.”

The two men pulled apart and Stiles rubbed at his face again with his sweatshirt covered hand.

“Come on, let’s get inside. I’ll order a pizza and we can watch something on TV.”  
  
“A-actually Dad, I’m really tired. Do you mind if I just crash on the couch?”  
  
“Sure, Kid.”

 

On the way to the Stilinski’s, Derek pulled off onto the sets of roads that led him to the otherside of town. Heading to the Vet’s office, he hoped he could find something that could help in Stiles’ healing. Deaton was the only one in a several mile radius that Derek knew of that’d be willing to handover any kind of herb or salve without a price. The need for Stiles’ well being grossly outweighed Derek’s distrust for the man.

When he got there, however, he was surprised by the sound of several familiar heartbeats in the backroom. He entered to see most of his pack huddled around one of the many metal exam tables. When they caught wind of Derek they all turned to him, a mixture of chemo signals ranged from them, everything from regret to relief, joy to shame was emitted.

“What’s going on,” he demanded.

“We’re just trying to hash everything out,” Scott explained.

Both Argents, Isaac, Scott, Boyd, Lydia, Jackson, Kira, and Erica were present, watching him with blinking eyes. It was Deaton who shocked him most when he wandered out from his office and joined the pack at the table and _ah_ , there was the reason for the regret and shame. His opinions on the Druid were well known.

The Alpha felt a growl build, but let out a drawn out sigh instead. He needed answers. For Stiles. For John. That much was for sure. And seemingly in the presence of the vet was the only way he was going to get them.

“In that case...I have a few questions of my own.”

 

Isaac watched his Alpha make his way over. He stood next to him and Boyd, the authoritative presence doing wonders to calm him. Derek seemed to notice the emittance of his amelioration because he threw him a soft look before steeling over.

“What have we gotten so far?”

“We just started,” Scott assured him.

“So far,” Lydia cut in, “we’ve speculated that she was using a form of possession spell to make those... _people_ attack us.”

“And what she hit Boyd, Kira and Malia with?”

“Same spell. Well, again, we’re assuming. We did wake up when the spell was broken,” Kira chimed in.  
  
Lydia nodded, “We think their wolf, fox and coyote acted as another conscious, preventing the spell from actually breaking through to them, making them pass out instead of being possessed.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Erica growled, still feeling hollow in the disconnect she and Isaac felt when Boyd went down, “wouldn’t the others have woken up too? The ones attacking us?”

“They were most likely already dead,” Chris grumbled. When Erica threw him a murderous look as she simultaneously grasped Boyd’s hand, it was clear she was just as tired of the secrets and mysteries as everyone else was. He continued, “It’s very...hard to possess an unwilling live person. Laurel used old magic, but she wasn’t nearly as powerful as the Nogitsune. And even he needed some semblance of...of an invitation.”

“The door,” Allison said quietly, pulling the pieces together.

“Right.”  
  
“Watch what you’re saying,” Isaac heard himself spit at the hunter.

Sure he had his fling with Allison and grown to love Chris as some estranged Uncle...as _pack_ , but Stiles was still his Stiles. He had been pack from the beginning. And now, being vulnerable, being hurt, made his instincts to _protect_ his packmate much stronger. Jackson must have had the same ideas running through his head, as his blue eyes were glowing eerily at the hunters.

“Isaac. Jackson,” Scott warned, but it did little to calm them down.  
  
It was Derek’s low voice that did it, “I don’t think he meant it that way. Chris?”

“No. I was just making the connection. We all know the difference.”

After holding out a few more seconds the two weres reluctantly let their wolves recede.

“How did Laurel even figure out it was Stiles?” Kira asked timidly, aiming to take the heat away from the hunters.

“In the preserve,” Derek answered, “Stiles said she must have figured it out when he used the mountain ash.”

Deaton nodded, “Druids who’ve had the practice are able to sense when others are using magic.”  
  
“Can _you?_ ”

“No. It’s extremely difficult to master.”

“What about the scents?” Lydia asked, having been absent from the conversation.  
  
“Laurel was masking them. When she died you could tell they were wolves,” Scott answered.

“So...she wanted Stiles for his spark. But the Grey’s wanted him in their pack. Are we still 100% sure they weren’t working together?”

Chris’ mouth twisted, “It’s highly unlikely. Especially given the fact that they helped us track her.”

Isaac frowned, remembering the scene he and Boyd had been audience too when the Grey’s had entered the clinic to meet with the rest of their pack.

 

_They wandered in, broken and quiet. What wasn’t covered in dirt on their bodied was covered in blood. Now dry streaks ran down their faces from what had been tears. They all embraced one another, carefully scenting and reassuring. It was odd to see another pack do what his had done so many times before. He had broken off to get to Boyd once Derek had taken off with Stiles limp in his arms. Isaac winced remembering the scream that had shaken what seemed to be the entire forest, causing them to spur into action, running to follow Derek up to the old Hale House. It had been tortured and Isaac had felt it to his core. He needed to see Boyd for himself, as his bond was strongest between the original pack he had formed with--Derek, Boyd, Erica and Stiles. His bond with Scott had taken a few hits but was steadily forming and the sex had helped with his and Allison’s. But he couldn’t feel it, not like this. Boyd had allowed Isaac to hug him before he pulled back and squeezed the blonde’s shoulder. The moment lasted for all of a moment before the Grey’s had wondered in. They were recuperating. Either forgetting or ignoring the fact that he and Boyd were there. Kira had immediately taken Liam into her arms, reassuring her that Stiles was alive before opting to drive him to the hospital to see for himself. And Malia...Malia had taken off in her coyote form as soon as she had woken and felt the broken bond. No one had seen or heard from her for hours now. It was quiet, save for the murmurs between pack members, before Amanda’s sobs resurfaced. Isaac watched on with sympathy as she buried her face into James’ neck and could not be calmed. After long minutes Lucille stood above her sitting son and beta._

_She was stoned face as she spoke, “Amanda, I think it’s time you tell us how you knew were Laurel would be.”_

_“I--”_

_As if noticing this connecting for the first time, James released her as if he had been burned._

_“No! Nothing...I wasn’t helping her. G-God. I didn’t...I didn’t even know--” she coughed on a cry once more._

_“I’m not saying you did,” the Alpha’s voice was steady, “I just need to know the whole story. All of it. Before anything else happens.”_  
  
_There was a silence before the girl’s eyes began to glow and she began to speak, “When she expressed interest in Stiles...I thought it was just an infatuation. Like...like a crush. I didn’t think...and she was older than fourteen. We all knew. It wasn’t like that either and I,” the tears began to well up again as her rambling stretched on._  
  
_“Amanda,” Lucille warned, “what are you saying?”_

_Her head dropped and her hands suddenly became very interesting._

_“We were...seeing each other.”_

_The gasps and sounds of disbelief from the rest of the pack were not easily covered. Especially from James and the other teenager he was standing with, one that Isaac hadn’t bothered remembering the name of._  
  
_“Romantically.” It wasn’t a question but Amanda nodded anyway._

_“After...after dad,” her voice broke but she continued, “she was there for me. She helped me with my nightmares and...and everything else. It just...we were in love Lucille. I loved her. And she loved me. I just--”_

_“How come we never smelled you guys on each other....like that?” The other teen had proded._

_“Laurel was good at scents. She hid it.”_  
  
_“Why?”_  
  
_“To everyone else she was fourteen, Michael,” she snapped, “It wasn’t like we could have gone around and paraded our relationship!”_

_“No, but you didn’t have to keep it a secret! From your pack. Who knew the situation. Look where it’s gotten us! She’s dead! If she really loved you you wouldn’t have been a secret. Stiles would be fine and she’d be alive. Glenn would be alive!”_

_“Enough, James,” Lucille growled, “It’s over. They’re dead.”_

_The coldness in her voice reminded Isaac of how Derek used to be when he had first been turned by the man. It made him shiver._

_“Did you know?” Tom asked suddenly, “That she was masking our scents?”_

_She hesitantly nodded, “She said it was just for protection. That my Dad...that Dad was still tracking us. She promised to keep me safe,” her voice dropped into a whisper._

_Another female made her way over to the girl and tucked her under her arm, “I’ll take them home?”_

_Lucille dismissed them with a wave of her hand and turned towards James, lifting her own arm, calling him over. She enveloped him into a hug and then beckoned her husband to join them. The small family clutched at each other, scared and hurting. Isaac couldn’t help but look away, leaving them to their private moment, something stirring in his gut. When he caught Boyd’s eye, he understood what it was--the need for his own pack. Without a word, Boyd slid off the table and followed Isaac outside to Melissa’s car, buckling himself into the passenger seat while Isaac drove them to the hospital._

 

“Stiles was dead,” Derek’s voice broke him out of his memories. There was a whine, but the Alpha continued, “He died. I felt it. The bond...it broke. Lydia screamed. There was no way that was a fluke.”

The Druid looked at him somberly.

“I need the truth Deaton. All of it. For my mother’s sake...you owe me at least that.”

After a moment, the man nodded and turned to the shelf lined with books. After settling on a dark red hardcover book that looked to be at least several thousand pages in length, he dropped it on the table, releasing a cloud of dust. The company all let out cries of disapproval, swatting at the air to dissipate the rising dirt and coughing to clear their lungs. He flipped to a page somewhere near the back and waited a moment before beginning.

“He did die.”

“Then how--” Jackson began, stopping when Lydia rested a soft hand on his upper arm.

“She tried to...consume Mr. Stilinski’s spark. But it was too powerful. The runes she carved into him would have helped her do that, compartmentalizing it, allowing her to feed on it overtime. That would have been the result...had she stabbed him in the heart. She missed, and stabbed the other side of his chest, where his spark lives.”  
  
“Like another heart,” Lydia mused.

“Exactly. When she stabbed the spark, Stiles did, in fact, die. The spark left him, and with it, his life force.”  
  
“Isn’t a spark a live force on it’s own?” Allison asked.

“It could be. In Stiles’ case, they’re separate. Meaning he could be drained of his power without killing him, leaving him completely human. Which is what I’m assuming she intended when she tried to enlist him into the Grey Pack.”

“So they were working together,” Scott decided.  
  
“N-no,” Isaac confirmed, catching Boyd’s eye across the table, “they weren’t.”

Derek took in the sight of his two Betas and nodded. The trust made his chest bloom until he remembered the twisted issue that alone had been.

“By taking both life forms, Stiles’ and his spark, would have made her even more powerful than she would have been by just taking one.”

“So how did she die?” Allison asked, remembering the sight of the girl dead and on the ground.

“It’s hard to explain.”  
  
“Try,” Chris bit.

“It’s...think of it like a dilution.”  
  
“What?”

“When she stabbed the spark, it dissipated. Miss Argent said a light was released, knocking everything around the two of them back. That was Stiles’ spark leaving his body.”

“So it was his spark that killed the possessed people? Not Laurel dying?”

“It could have been. He is, in a sense, your Emissary. It may not be in the traditional way, but he is. His instinct, even in death, would be to protect his pack. Laurel did die a short time after, so it could have been her death that released them, as well.”  
  
“What about Boyd, Kira and Malia?”

Liam cleared his throat, reminding Isaac that he was there, “When Stiles...they woke up a few minutes after I felt the bond break.”

“Mm. She hadn’t planned for the dispersion. Stiles’ spark...it bled into the trees and earth in the preserve. But it was so pure that some other force decided that it wasn’t Stiles’ time to die. It pushed the spark back towards him.”  
  
“Some other force?” Erica’s eyes narrowed, “Like a God?”

Deaton shrugged, “Who knows. It could have been the Nemeton. It’s always favored Mr. Stilinski. Or it could have been a nymph or another nature spirit. But with borrowed power it gave Stiles back his life. And in addition the purest parts of _their_ spark.”

“So his spark isn’t...his spark?”

“It’s like a trade off,” Lydia speculated, “In the grander scheme of things, Stiles gave his power to various sources. So in turn they gave him back power. But they also...gave him back his spark?” She turned to Deaton.

“Exactly,” he confirmed.

“So, he’s stronger now?” Chris questioned.

“Yes. Which is why the symbols she carved into Stiles didn’t work the way they should have. If she completed the ritual, the spark would have transferred into her directly. Like I said, she wasn’t planning on the dispersion. When the spark came back, it assumed she was the magic user that had given away the power. So it went into her. However, when she tried to consume it, it was too pure so it quite literally burned right through her.”

“What do you mean?”

“Imagine if it were ethanol. Something so pure is destructive. It needs to be diluted in order to be consumed in realistic quantities. You can drink alcohol, but ethanol...”

“Literally burns right through you,” Derek echoed the words in understanding.

“So how did it get to Stiles?”

“It looked for the next host. The spark is so powerful that it bypassed the symbols altogether. If it hadn’t found Stiles it would have ripped through all of Beacon Hills in search of a secure host. Mr. Stilinski was born to be that host. Like Derek was born to be a werewolf. It might not have been the universe’s purpose of their births, but it gave Stiles, and the rest of you, the tools to be the thing that you are.”

“So the screaming,” Allison hesitated and Deaton picked up on where she left off, nodding.

“Yes. It was the spark reentering him. He may have the ability to harbor and control it, but it’s still excruciatingly painful. There have been many accounts of death even if the spark came from the person. It’s...a lot. Too much.”

“What aren’t you saying?” Derek asked.

“Stiles...more or less, is bonded to that land now.”

Derek snarled, “What does that mean?”

“They’re dependant on each other now. It’s not...bad per se. He’s just going to be tied to earth elements. The spark, while it lives in Stiles, is technically shared between the two.”  
  
“But we don’t even know what the other half of that equation is!” Lydia snapped.  
  
“It allowed Stiles to live. Simply on the principle that his spirit was pure. We have to believe it’s good. Or at least that it has good intentions.”  
  
“Or it could have planned to bond to Stiles in an attempt to take the spark for themselves in the future,” Lydia pointed out.

Isaac felt sick. Derek _looked_ sick.

“It would have just kept the spark, would it have not?” Deaton countered.

Lydia shrugged a shoulder, “ _You’re_ the expert,” she sassed.

This time it was Jackson whose touch was the calming force.

There was a pregnant pause. Everything seemed to be cleared up. Well...as cleared up as it could get.

“Is there anything else I can help you with? Derek?”

The Alpha heard the snip in the Druid’s voice, but chose to ignore it, “The symbols she carved...is there anything...do you have anything to get rid of them?”

He nodded and disappeared into the back without a word. Derek sighed and masaged the bridge of his nose.

“How’s Stiles?” Allison asked.

“He’s...good. Fine. He’s home.”  
  
“Can we see him?”  
  
“Not today.”

“What do you mean?” Scott asked, “He’s my best friend. What do you think? Just because you guys have a thing now doesn’t mean you can dictate his life.”

“Scott, honey. Where have you been? They’re bonded. Mated. That gives Derek exactly _every right_ to dictate his life if he wanted to.”

“But he’s in _my_ pack.”

“Shut up McCall,” Jackson growled.

“We’re all one pack here,” Allison jumped in, “I thought you were passed this.”

“Stiles was never _in_ your pack, Scott. He’s always been a Hale. Always will be a Hale,” Erica snapped.

“Enough,” Derek snarled, “There are no _packs_. There is only one and it’s the pack of Beacon Hills. If this is still an issue then you need to let me know. Now. Scott?”

The boy stood his ground for a second longer before visually deflating, “No, no _issue.”_

“Good. Everyone should go home, then. Get some rest. It’s been a long week.”  
  
“It’s been a long _month_ ,” Isaac agreed.

“But Stiles--” Scott began.

“Is still settling in at home and will be ready for visitors in a few days.”

Scott fumed but said nothing as he turned towards the door to leave. In a slow succession the pack followed. Isaac, Boyd and Erica hung back with their Alpha. Because even if there wasn’t two packs, the divide was still obvious. It was still a schism between them. It may always be that way, but right now Isaac was too tired to even think about that. Maybe it was a primal thing. Maybe it was a high school thing. Who knows.

While Deaton handed Derek a jar of eerily green paste and instructed him on how to use it, Erica linked her hand into Isaac’s and pulled him closer to her and Boyd. He smiled gratefully and let her nuzzle into his neck.

“My Mom’s making ceviche tonight. Come over. We can cuddle and watch movies.”

“Only if we don’t have to watch any of the Resident Evil Movies,” Boyd bargained, dropping his eyes down to his girlfriend’s lips.

“Or the Godfather,” Isaac sighed.

“Oh honey,” Erica purred, her nose inches from his, “I’m going to make you an offer you can’t refuse.”

Isaac couldn’t help the helpless laugh that bubbled out of him, causing Erica to cackle and Boyd to look on with amusement. He began following the two of them out, the whole of them tangled in each other, laughing and talking, when he hesitated, unwilling to leave Derek there alone. He turned to look at his Alpha who was on the phone, a gentle smile gracing his lips. Isaac listened in and identified the party responsible for that soft expression to be Stiles, begging Derek to bring him curly fries and shake back from Ruby’s. The man looked up, registering Isaac’s careful presence and threw him a grateful look, a smile on his face once more, but this time because of Isaac’s thoughtfulness. The Beta returned the look and followed his packmates back outside. He watched on as Erica was spewing out as many relevant movie quotes that she could remember and couldn’t help the warmth that spread threw him at seeing his pack.

They were okay. They were all okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? What'd you think?
> 
> I see that the interest in this fic has kind of expired (which makes me wonder if I drew it out too long) but I kind of expected interests to decline somewhere between chapters 16 & 17 anyway. But I'm super happy with the interest this fic has gotten in the first place, so thank you for those who have joined this long journey with me and are still hanging on! Haha. 
> 
> I say this because there's only one more chapter (+ the very involved epilogue) left to post!! So we'll be done by the end of next week! Which is crazy. Six months of this and now it's ending? It's a strange feeling for me.
> 
> Enough with the nostalgic rambling---what did you think of the chapter? I think I saw some Erica/Isaac/Boyd if I squinted. I mean I'm not really one for the whole poly-shipping ideals, but after that blurb, I might be. It could be fun. Scott was also kind of a dick, which I did not expect to come out really, either, but I just went with it.
> 
> (& I'm looking to change the summary a bit/add new & better tags so if you have any suggestions let me know please)
> 
> I sincerely hope you enjoyed it and I'll see you in a few days for chapter 25!!
> 
> Sorry about the long ass chapter notes as always.  
> So much love for you all.  
> Thank you xoxo


	25. Last Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The calm *after* the storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um....so...it's been a while
> 
> My life has kind of been in shambles....but I have returned. To post, what I'm sure, is a let down of pretty much a final chapter. I struggled a bit with this one, plugging things in, left and right...and I think that this is really what would have happened if this actually had happened (Spoilers int he End Notes).
> 
> I hope it was worth the wait. Thanks, again, for coming back.
> 
> ALSO....this chapter is for Sharem (Bc I finally opened my inbox on Tumblr and saw your very very kind message. So as a thank you, dedication, yay)

Stiles sat at the kitchen table, his physics homework spread out in front of him. But he couldn’t concentrate. It wasn’t like before. Nothing his adderall could fix.

What had happened....everything...it hadn’t been the worst thing to ever grace Beacon Hills. It hadn’t been the worst thing to ever happen to Stiles. It hadn’t been even close. They made it out with the whole pack intact and minimal injuries and deaths. It had been the betrayal that had gotten him. The thought made him run cold. Because Laurel? She was the last person he expected. She had stopped the packs from fighting. She had brought him soup and movies. Ordered him pizza and held his hand when he was anxious.

Her laugh...sometimes he could still hear her laugh. Bell like. Innocent. Every time he closed his eyes he saw her. Laid out on the floor of the ashen Hale house. Her pupils so wide, so full of dark magic and power, they were black. But there was something else in there too. Fear. She had been scared. She hadn’t wanted to die. She didn’t want to go. And despite the many lives she lived, despite the many lives she _took_ , she would always be that fourteen year old girl to Stiles. In his dreams she would talk to him, her voice sweet and playful, her smile young and carefree. Her face. It was always her dead face that ripped through everything to be in the front.

He didn’t realize his breathing was picking up until Derek’s large hand wrapped around his. He jolted out of his thoughts and made grateful eye contact with the Alpha. He was as shocked as Derek looked when hot tears pooled from his eyes. The man stood wordlessly and pulled Stiles into his chest.

“Come on, let’s take a break.”

After a moment of holding each other in the kitchen they made their way to the living room and fell onto the couch. Derek sat, cradling Stiles across his lap, holding his head to his shoulder and allowing his long legs to bend over his jean clad ones. He silently rocked him a bit before they both settled in.

“I still see her, you know.”  
  
Derek nodded, “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t--don’t apologize. Thank you for coming for me.”

“I’ll always come for you, Stiles.”

He answered by nuzzling further into Derek’s neck and tightening the grip he had on the other man’s shirt.

“I know.”  


After a few weeks, things went back to...normal. Kind of. It was a new normal. The pack meetings at the loft continued every Thursday, but instead of the training they usually dabbled in, the hours after school were used to _socialize_ . Sometimes they’d watch movies or play games, other times they’d all bring their homework in and pour over it together. Derek didn’t know how long it would necessarily last, knowing that the threats in Beacon Hills wouldn’t just stop and that they needed to be ready for every and all possibility that said next threat could come into town tomorrow or the next day. But he recognized the need for a break, too. And his pack needed a break.

The whole incident had been passed off to the public as some kind of satanic ritual sacrifice that Stiles had found himself mixed in with. The scary part was, though, that it wasn’t entirely untrue.  
  
Pictures ran through the news of the burned Hale house, showing the signs and the symbols and ritual sight. It made Stiles’ stomach churn. His father was always quick to shut it off and mutter about the no good journalists and press that would do anything for a quarter. Stiles silently agreed, but at least  it was better than headlines that read “Three Hundred Year Old Druid Attempts to Absorb Teenager’s Life Force” or “Werewolf Pack Gets Involved In The Age Old Argument of Full Absorption vs Partial”.  
  
CPS had been dealt with cleanly, without as little as a misstep. Stiles had his suspicions that Melissa had a hand in that, but he daren’t ask.  
  
Malia had finally resurfaced a day or two later, absolutely floored by the fact that Stiles was _alive_ and had refused to leave his room (or put on clothes) for a week now. Stiles wanted to say that it bothered him, but it didn’t. The presence of pack did wonders, especially to get him to sleep. Her nakedness...well it was nothing he hadn’t seen before, but he eventually got her to agree to at least one of his oversized band tees. Her being there didn’t bother John in the least. It was Derek who seemed to have the issue. Every night he just looked at her sardonically before putting Stiles to bed and shutting out the light. Stiles toyed with the idea of letting him know that every night Malia took her coyote form to curl up next to him to at least put the thought that Stiles, his mate, was sleeping side by side with a naked woman every night, to rest. But this was kind of more fun. He would tell him...eventually.  
  
As for Derek, they still hadn’t had _that_ talk. But Stiles didn’t blame him. He had asked Lydia to gather as many sources for him as possible and together they had read up on everything mate related. And, yeah, It was big. Huge even. Their bond would amplify. They wouldn’t last without each other. There was no “til death do us part” because if one of them went down, both of them did. And if was frightening. But it was also....liberating. Knowing that Derek did love him. Enough to be tied to him like that. Forever. To _Stiles_. And he had always known, objectively, that Derek loved him, even if it was, as Laura had said, unconventional and that he had loved Derek since the moment he laid eyes on him. And maybe even before, but it had just been undirected. Laura...sometimes her face along with Talia would appear in his dreams. They wouldn’t speak or move. They would just be there. Starring on with knowing gazed. Bringing with them their comforting presence and the scent of earl grey.  He hadn’t told Derek about meeting them yet. He didn’t know if he ever would. But sometimes Derek did something that just reminded him so much of one of them that the confession nearly came out of its own volition. Instead he would just clench his jaw and smile sadly at him before caressing the man’s cheek and kissing him softly. Because he was allowed to do that. Finally.  
  
They were still moving slow. But it was a comfortable pace. Especially after everything.

 

At least that’s what Stiles thought was happening. The slowness. But then Derek said _it_ and everything was out the window from there.  
  
They had been sitting on the couch, Stiles’ head laid back on Derek’s shoulder as the Alpha’s big warm hand rested on his forehead. It was a situation they had come to find themselves very familiar with. Derek had said something and Stiles had laughed. The words were whispered, as if in realization.  
  
“I love you.”

Stiles had stopped. He turned to the man wide eyed and shocked. Because...well he knew. And he knew that Derek knew. And that he knew that he knew that....he knew and just...what? It had taken Stiles a moment to get back on track before smiling quietly and answering.

“I love you, too.”

And until the day he died he would deny the fact that he had any idea about how he ended up on Derek’s lap, legs straddling the man’s waist, kissing him into oblivion. Because for once, nothing else mattered. This was for us. For a moment they were the only two in the world.  
  
Until they both heard the unmistakable sound of a very Sheriff father clearing his throat in the doorway.

 

John had taken it...rather well. Seeing that he had already known. He hadn’t missed the opportunity, however, to put the two of them through the ringer. That had been about a week ago and John’s clever amusement still hadn’t diminished. He got a kick out of teasing the two of them as well as implementing the “door open at all times” rule. But Stiles didn’t mind. Because if things ever got a little too hot and heavy, there was always the Loft to go to and...well it was good to see his dad enjoying himself, even if it was at Stiles’ expense. And after everything had kind of spilled out onto the table, Derek finally got the guts to sit Stiles down and explain mates to him. It was a short conversation, most of which was Stiles telling Derek everything he already knew along with a lot of relevant exclamations and heavy... _physical_ reassurance as well.

But things were on track. Things were _good_ . Stiles would start school in a few more days. He was dating a super _hot_ alpha werewolf. He was alive. His friends were all alive. He had made allies and fought off enemies successfully. The only thing that left him feeling empty was the Grey’s. He hadn't heard from them since everything, making it about a month now. It was to be expected, but he missed James and the rest of them. Because, as they said, Stiles fit in with them rather flawlessly. He was looking forward to their alliance.

Three days later they received a formal request for a meeting. To meet in the preserve. Much to Stiles’ humorous dismay.

Derek and Stiles stood at the edge of the clearing. Stiles’ eyes darted around them, but it was more out of observation purposes than anxiety. Derek stilled beside him when he felt the others approaching. Lucille and Tom and with them, James.

“Alpha Hale, Stiles,” Lucille nodded.

“Alpha Grey,” Derek responded, evenly.

“I wanted to apologize for the mess.”

At that, Stiles jumped.

“Please, Lucille...I, er, Alpha Grey. You don’t have to apologize. You saved me. There was no way you could have known. Really. She...she fooled all of us.”

Stiles melted back at a hand on his shoulder.

“Stiles is right,” Derek supported, “There was no way you could have known. It’s not your fault. There’s no way we would have made it to Stiles in time if it wasn’t for you.”

“He’s right,” Stiles continued, “so there’s no need for you to--”

“We’re leaving,” Lucille interrupted.

“What?!”

“We need to...get away. She may have been...” Lucille swallowed and averted her eyes. It was Tom twining their fingers together that urged her to continue. It wasn’t lost on Stiles how much strength she seemed gained from such a small gesture. He idly wondered if he’d be that for Derek, as well as an anchor, “...but she was still pack. _Family_.”

Derek nodded beside him, dropping his gaze to James who was watching Stiles carefully as waves of confusion and sadness came from him. Stiles’ eyes were trained on the floor. And almost as an answer to his question, Derek’s heavy fingers folded around his slight ones with a squeeze. Maybe...maybe this whole “being a person’s strength” thing went both ways. He looked up with a small, sad smile on his face.

“I understand.”

“Thank you, for everything,” Tom said.

Derek shook his head, “Thank you. And you are always welcome here. Beacon Hills is as much as your home as it is my territory, as far as I’m concerned. And I still presume we are standing allies.”

“Thank you, Derek,” Lucille smiled, “and of course. If you ever need anything, for any of your packmates, you have my number as well as my respect and loyalty.”

Derek nodded stoically, the hardline of his clenched jaw fading was the only sign of relief. But a sign of relief it was.

“Promise to keep in touch?” Stiles chanced.

Lucille’s gaze swung to him, “Of course, Pumpkin. I assume we’re headed as far East as possible, so if you ever want to visit Philly give us a call.”

Tom took Stiles’ hand in his for a firm shake, “You’ve been very brave, Mr. Stilinski. It’s been an honor and a privilege.”  
  
“Likewise, Sir.”

He met James’ eyes for a brief minute before being pulled into a hug. One which he eagerly returned.

“Who’s going to keep you in line in Finstock’s class now?”

Stiles let out a watery laugh before squeezing the wolf tighter, “I’m going to miss you buddy.”

“I know. You’ll be miserable without me.”

“Understatement.”

With a clasp on the shoulder, Stiles stepped back, accepting Derek’s hand in his. He watched the two Alpha’s exchange nods, before the Greys finally turned around and melted into the forest, leaving as stealthily as they had come. There was something as frightening as it was comforting to know that they were on their side. And Stiles had a feeling that they always would be, too. After a long moment, Derek leads him out of the preserve and up to the cliff that overlooks Beacon Hills. There was silence, other than the usual signs of life of the forest.

“You alright?” Derek murmurs into Stiles’ temple, low and evenly.

He pulled back just enough to see the man. The look at the person he had fallen in love with. The person he had grown with and learned about and who learned about him. The man who wanted to spend his life with him. The man who had once been so broken, but rebuilt himself up into something even more beautiful than before, like a phoenix from the ashes. He sees Derek’s masterpieces of eyes curiously looking back at him, softly waiting for an answer. He sees the man’s shoulder, usually so taut with anticipation and stress now relaxed and comfortable. He takes this all in and he knows. That despite the fading marks that were carved into him with a blade, that despite the knowledge that yet another threat would eventually make its way into Beacon Hills, that despite the new sadness and empty wound he gained from losing more friends to the depression of loss, that despite the everyday struggles he faces from the people _he_ has lost that yeah...

“I’ll be just fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So....all that's left is really the epilogue. Hope to see you then (within the next day or so)....
> 
> I think the Grey's goodbye was written kind of hastily (please let me know, bc if it really really is as bad as I think, I'll workshop it. And I didn't write a whole lot of the "I love you" Sterek part, bc as I've said before, the Sterek in this fic as kind of been a low key underlying plot line in this fic, which I kind of like, and want to keep it that way. Besides, I this fic has enough plots as it is....any comments, unanswered questions, or suggestions, please leave a comment. Hope to see you there.
> 
> Lots of Love & Lots of Sterek  
> xoxo
> 
> ~midnight


	26. Extra Innings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it....the epilogue. And the very very end.

They do keep in touch.

 

It was quiet for months, until Stiles broke the silence by emailing Lucille, begging for her pumpkin recipe the next year around October. That seemed to open the floodgates. James texted him off and on, complaining about college or school work or his pack mates. Their social media accounts were bombarded with likes and favorites and comments from each other as well as Micheal, Adam and Tyler. Once in awhile Lucille would send a recipe for food along with directions for salves or potions. 

And even all the way in the East, The Grey’s became their go-to for supernatural information, allowing them to deal with Deaton as little as possible. It proved effective when the following summer Jackson was bitten by a fae and started spewing mistletoe. Deaton has hesitated in disrupting the balance, but Lucille had righteously fucked the balance as she barked directions at him to make the cure over the phone. After that, the Pack’s and Deaton’s relationship had been.... _ rocky _ . Lydia even started making the forty minute drive to the next town over when she needed a vet for Prada.  
  


Time went by and they remained steady allies. They always exchanged Christmas Cards and invitations. They had been invited to Adam and Fen’s graduation and Stiles had invited them to Liam and Mason’s. Each had been declined last minute, but no offense had been seen in light of it. Stiles even took them up on their offer to visit Philly one summer. It was just like old times, but he was happy to go back home and lay in Derek’s arms, once more.  
  


Fen went on to be a dentist. A strangely tame job, for someone who was always jumping the gun. It stopped being a shock when he had explained to Stiles that it left him a lot of vacation time to go skiing and hiking and all the other adrenaline junky type things Stiles expected of him.

Michael opened his own cafe in Philly, apparently, he was a fantastic baker that was holding out on all of them.

Tyler, no surprise, became a teacher. His mother henning, was apparently a fantastic trait when it came to kindergarteners.

James took the long road and became a lawyer. He liked to argue, had been his reasoning and well...Stiles couldn’t deny  _ that _ statement.

As for Amanda...as soon as they had reached Philly she had taken off. No one had seen or heard from her since. Laurell assumed she returned to California as an Omega, but James claimed that one day, late at night, he finally felt their bond snap...for good.

 

Eventually, Stiles learned how to use his spark. Lucille sent a Druid to them a while back. She had taught him the ins and outs as well as control. It was a tiring few months, but it was well worth it in the end. Everyday he awed Derek, reminding him how much power his slight self really held within it. As Deaton had suggested, Stiles was now tied to the earth. Often times he would go back to the preserve, stand in the very place he had “died” and connect with the life and magic around him. It bothered his mate, as this brought back the memories of that time for both of them, but when Stiles returned it looked like he was actually glowing, so there were no further complaints.

 

They moved in together when Stiles started college. The loft became their home and it was a place they could constantly be surrounded by pack. The recovery period was long and hard. Like Stiles had said, there were nightmares. Nightmares that combined everything, watching his mother die, the Nogitsune, Gerard, Laurel...but Derek was patient. He never complained, never looked annoyed that Stiles would wretch awake at night, screaming bloody murder, sobbing into his chest. He would only hold the human closer and tell him how much he loved him. The pack was great, too. They seemed to sense that he needed a lot of reassurance and affirmations. They  always found a way to have some kind of contact with him and never pointed out his missteps and periods of zoning out or heightened anxiety. 

And if they noticed that Stiles had a new infatuation with dark blue irises or earl grey tea...no one mentioned it.

 

In Stiles’ senior year of college, they called in all of their allies. Hunters had taken over Beacon Hills and not even the Argents could talk them out of it. It was a bloodbath. It would, no doubt, go down in lycanthrope history. Eight packs againsts upwards to fifty hunter families and clans. Eventually, the wolves came out on top, Lucille and the Grey’s being the exact piece of resistance they needed to push them over the edge. They later agreed to help the Argents in spreading their new motto “We protect those who cannot protect themselves”. They went back to Philadelphia with a handful of Argent’s men, hoping to make a dent on the East Coast. Stiles hadn’t seen them since.

 

James eventually met a man from school. He had brown soft looking hair, and bright brown eyes, with moles that dotted his pale face. He looked, eerily, of Stiles. But James seemed happy. So Stiles was happy for them.

 

It was several years later that Stiles told Derek about seeing his family. It was a sore topic of conversation, the time Stiles died. But he pushed through it and told him. Everything. The Alpha looked crushed. There were tears in his eyes, pain seeping through their bond, everything from confusion to anxiety to sorrow tore through his features all at once. Stiles reached out for him, but the man shook him off and stalked out the door. He disappeared for a few days without so much as a phone call. He returned on a Tuesday, running into the door and not even hesitating before attacking Stiles’ lips with his own, pushing him up against he wall and getting as close to the man as possible. Stiles couldn’t help the escaped tears as he kissed the man back, passionately, tangling his fingers in black hair. Just happy to have his mate back in his arms. They have mind blowing sex in the front room. A week later, Derek finally proposes.

 

James would not come to the wedding, but he sent them the new Marvel movie and all was right in the world.

 

After a lot of research, Lydia discovered that lingering spirits were strongest on the equinoxes. So they planned the ceremony for May for right in the preserve. So that the rest of the Hales could be there, too. Once Stiles took Derek’s hand in his his, he could have sworn he saw Talia’s smiling face and beautiful eyes looked back at him. And if he altered his vows a little to remind himself, along with Derek, that happiness was a journey, not a destination...well, no one was the wiser.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Work: The New Normal el fin x


	27. For The Fans

My Dearest Readers,

I just wanted to thank everyone who came along for the ride. This fic took me 9 months to write....it was literally like having a baby. I started off writing this just to get back in the game, but it quickly became more than that. Reading how much you guys liked it always made my week and even in the large gaps, most of you would always come back and give me your love and support and feedback.

Putting this work to bed is bitter sweet. Because I’ll miss it. And all of you. The characters, the plot, the readers screaming at me for another cliff hanger. But it’s done and I hope it was worth your time. I did toy with the idea of writing a sequel and I may write some accessory pieces in the far off future, but I have a ton of story ideas waiting for their turn, and I think Stiles and James' story ends here.

There’s so much I wish I could say to all of you, but I’ll keep it short and sweet (says the author with a 60000+ word fanfic)....  


Thank you.

For those who read the fic since the beginning, for being my biggest supporters and inspiration.

For those who joined any part of the way through, for being the reason I continued writing.

For those who left comments, for giving me ideas and helping me hit my stride and find my voice.

For those who left kudos, for giving me over 1,000 reasons to smile.

For those who bookmarked, for giving me hope that you guys really liked it enough that you may go back and reread it. And for the little blurbs you guys wrote about the fic under the notes section, because they always made me laugh.

For those who subscribed, for lighting over 700 matches under my ass, encouraging me to work hard and keep updating.

For those who read my author notes, for letting me know I’m not crazy.

And for every single person who ever read one of my fanfictions, for allowing me to share my writing, my passion and my ideas with you and for giving me confidence and teaching me along the way.  


I know this may be overboard....because I know, I didn’t publish a novel or write some great achieving work of fanfiction....but I don’t think the readers get enough credit. Because of you guys, I was able to do what I love to do most, which is write. Even without having a career in it, this allows me to actually do what I love, dabble in my passion and have it reach people who can read it, give me feedback and either enjoy it or not. So thank you. It would have been impossible to do this...any of this, without every single one of you.  
  
So much love to all of you. I hope to see you in some of my future works and if you have any you’d like to share with me, it’s the least I could do for you.

Lots of Love & Lots of Sterek

   
All My Love To You,

midnight

xoxo

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much,  
> See you soon.
> 
> midnightcas  
> xoxo


End file.
